


The Fire in Ice

by SylverStorms



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Pining, Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, Warnings for swearing because Katarina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-07-08 03:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylverStorms/pseuds/SylverStorms
Summary: They had never so much as glanced at each other outside of combat -they existed in different worlds. One certain and unwavering under the weight of her crown, a just, revered queen and a flawless icon of stability. The other the perfect assassin, a ruthless, bloodthirsty killing machine, with a nonexistent heart inside her chest. Yet, as the two opposites start to gravitate towards each other, they start to realize that not all is as it seems.Warmth can be found in ice. Good, smothered underneath layers of darkness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I always wanted to write for my two favorite characters in League. I ship this pairing with a passion and I was always attracted to the idea of Ashe's calm and kindness in contrast to Katarina's harsh edges and cruelty. I wish they'd give us more lore-wise about the Du Couteau family/more interactions but hey, that's what fanfics are for. I hope you guys enjoy. Leave a comment and tell me your thoughts if you did, it means a lot to me.

**[Katarina]**

Darkness.

A concept most deeply associated with fear and anything monstrous coming to life, to haunt. The heightening of the senses, lack of sight, the imagination conjuring up superficial threats that may or may not exist. Indeed, one either feared the dark... or they were part of the reason others did.

In the lush forest of the Fields of Justice, so thick day turned to night, the monster was very real. It prowled high up in the trees, a shadow among shadows, locked onto its target and waiting for that perfect opportunity to strike. Its teeth gleamed in the form of masterfully crafted blades, bared for the kill, muscles coiled tight like a powerful spring, eyes greener than the leaves surrounding them burning with anticipation—

In one swift leap, twin swords were embedded into the unsuspecting victim's back.

A hoarse cry echoed throughout the forest.

Master Yi, panicked but slowed from his wounds, slashed at air where his assailant used to be. Katarina let out a low laugh as she stood from her crouch to pull one of her curved blades out of him, none-too-gently. Of course, the assassin could have struck a vital point and killed him in one shot –but where was the fun in that?

She sharply eyed her opponent's carotid artery, arm raising in a practised movement...

 _“The blue team has slain an enemy! Dominating”_ The announcer's voice echoed across the Fields.

Only, despite her words, Katarina was fairly certain she had not yet claimed her kill, nor had the enemy jungler so little health left that he would bleed out before she got to enjoy herself. She'd been precise in impairing movement but not piercing any vital organs, so what _happened_?

The answer to the assassin’s confusion came in the form of a single blue arrow embedded deep into her target's heart. The area where it pierced armor was frozen solid, a thin wispy trail of pure chill leading her emerald gaze far back...

...to none other than her bottom lane teammate, the Frost Archer.

Ashe had the decency to look perhaps slightly apologetic, her reply to the redhead's astonished expression a simple “Oops.”

Normally, no amount of audio censoring could save the audience from Katarina's swearing in those situations. Ashe's only saving grace was that she still stood too surprised to enter her rampage mode.

“What in the holy name of _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!” she asked through gritted teeth.

“My summoner saw you caught out in the enemy jungle and I thought you were in trouble. My bad.” The queen shrugged innocently. “We have to go. It's dangerous to linger here.”

“Well screw you _and_ your summoner _and_ everything they own. When we leave this match and the bullshit magic not allowing you to hurt teammates—”

Ashe's calm and collected expression suddenly turned to alarm. “Katarina–!”

“I swear I will find who they are and—”

That was all Katarina had time to say before she was floating in limbo, high above the Fields of Justice, waiting on respawn time.

_“The red team has slain an enemy!”_

Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Fox, top tier in Katarina's current-match shit list, had the audacity to gloat over her dead body. She didn't know if it was better or worse that it was Ashe, in the teamfight that followed, who avenged her death.

What she did know was, as soon as she was alive and kicking, the enemy team was _fucked_.

…

The end of the match signalled a decisive victory for the blue team, yet Katarina was not mirroring her teammates' excitement. A dark cloud had settled over her throughout the teleporting process. It took all her willpower to stay cool at the arena, before the countless cheering fans.

The backstage, though, was a different story.

As soon as they had stepped out of the spotlight, the predatory look had returned to the assassin's jade eyes, directed towards none other than Ashe's no-brain summoner. For who else than a complete moron would dare killsteal on purpose the entire match to get his perfect score, not accounting that this was Katarina Du Couteau's kills he was claiming? His selfishness could very easily ruin his career. And as far as the redhead was concerned, it already _had_.

 _Time to rough the little shit up a bit._ With the League's magic in place, there was, sadly, only so much she could do.

Katarina stomped her way to the summoner, already boasting to his team for his kill-to-death ratio, spiked boots clicking with cold purpose against the dark tiles. She took great pleasure in the split second his eyes met hers and realization dawned like a bucket of cold water that he was screwed –before her hand nailed him to the wall by the throat. The look turned into frantic, pure terror. His teammates were already backing off of the scene. A smart move.

The young man helplessly tried to stammer out a response. 

“What, you think your summoner status will save you now?” Katarina gave her best manic glare, lips curled into a perpetual half-smirk, similar to how the fingers of her free hand curled around a fine, thin knife at her belt. “Do you know who I _am_?” The summoner nodded so fast he could have gotten whiplash if it wasn't for her grip. “Status means nothing to me.”

Nothing could save him from Katarina's whims in that moment.

Except maybe the chill on her elbow that diverted her attention.

The assassin sharply turned her head, only to come face to face with endless crystal-blue, as unwavering as the icy mountains of Freljord. Ashe's hand on her arm was not gripping, merely a steady pressure, chilling her skin through her leather jacket. “I think that's enough.” her silvery voice said, with just enough steel to it to remind Katarina why she was queen.

“It's enough when I say it is.” Katarina's eyes bore into her, piercing like her knives.

It seemed time itself froze in their staring contest, the rapid breaths of the pinned summoner the only sound to the otherwise silence. Until the assassin's phone rang, vibrating in her pocket. Katarina sheathed her knife and retrieved it, going still at the caller id; her sister's name on the screen. Immediately and without a second thought, she dropped the summoner, who collapsed straight onto his knees.

After one final glare at Ashe, Katarina _shunpo_ ’ed out of earshot and answered the call.

“Cass?”

_“We have a problem.”_

She could have guessed it wasn't a social call –they didn't do that anymore.

…

Talon was already there when Katarina barged into Cassiopeia's room. He was sitting on the couch with his hood on, looking moodier than usual, while the younger sibling stood with crossed arms on a coiled tail, the end flicking rapidly. Katarina knew that was never a good sign. From her sister's temper tantrums she had learned to read her body language, when it was dangerous to approach and when not. In that moment, care was necessary if one wanted to live.

“What happened?” she asked.

“One of our operatives in Freljord has betrayed us and fled with the information I sent him to retrieve.” Cassiopeia said in a venomous, low tone. “We must find out what he uncovered and terminate him immediately.”

“Does Swain know about this?” Was Katarina's burning question. Their family had suffered blow after blow in the years after their father disappeared; they could not afford to lose face before the General now. Not in such a tight spot with the rest of the Noxian nobility.

“Not yet. But every second he draws breath is a risk.” Talon replied.

“Well then what the hell are we waiting for?” Katarina asked.

“It is not so simple, Katarina. He is a Freljord citizen, a member of the court and worst of all has sought protection from the king and queen themselves. Not even my sources know where he is hiding.” Cassiopeia's scales wound up tighter. There was nothing she hated more than lack of information, the redhead knew.

“I will look into it.” Talon stood, excusing himself. The subtle look he threw Katarina from under the shadows of his hood hinted he meant to go first, leave the two sisters in the same room alone. Perhaps give them incentive to talk for something other than business. It was... a rare occurrence.

Cassiopeia was too busy running her mind a mile per second, which left Katarina a moment to look around the room. She didn't know if the intact furniture was actually progress or recently replaced, but she did know this was nothing like her sister's taste in décor had once been. Changed, like Cassiopeia herself.

The thick red drapes filtering out the sun, currently drawn aside only for the purpose of this meeting, were as out of character as the fabric covering the vanity mirror beside her queen-sized bed. Dark colors and a strict Noxian vibe –it was stylish, but it wasn't _her_. Cassiopeia had always preferred flimsy curtains, mirrors and glass, exotic decorations –Shuriman, mostly, as she'd always found their culture fascinating– mixed with modern Noxian. She had been the red to Katarina's black...

...until she wasn't.

“The briefing is done.” Cassiopeia said over a marble shoulder. “Is there something you want?” With a tone that meant ‘ _get out_ _’._

_Yes._

“No.” Katarina said and was out the door.

…

The clock read one in the morning.

The clubs inside the Institute grounds were brimming with life. Summoners and champions alike, swaying to the bass beat, bodies swarming the dance floor and alcohol coming in by the litres. Katarina had picked one at random and sat in the middle of the long, neon-lit counter, ordering 'her usual', which every self-respecting bartender should know and get just right.

The first twenty minutes were nothing but sweet alcoholic bliss, spent between her and her dozen or so drinks. It was the following seconds, when a certain barbarian glaring icicles at the side of her head decided to approach, that were the problem. Tryndamere's bulk shadowed the right side of Katarina's face, but worse, shadowed her drink. The flashy lights she had been diligently watching reflect over her Noxian rum were gone –and that pissed her right the fuck off.

“You have twenty seconds to move before I make you.” she said under her fringe unpleasantly.

“I saw what happened backstage today on tv.” he spoke in his very annoying, gruff voice. The sound grated on her ears. “You think you can go and threaten my wife?”

 _Oh, so that is what the media spread to get views._ _Makes sense._ Not that Katarina was about to explain anything to the no-brain brute. “I can threaten anyone I want.” she shrugged. “Also, twelve seconds.”

“I don't deal well with people pointing at Ashe with knives, Noxian.” He sounded more drunk than Katarina. More drunk with fewer drinks. What a _disgrace_.

“Who knows, she stood there quite a while, maybe she's into that sort of thing.” The assassin shrugged again, all characteristic Noxian arrogance, this time. “Five.” she reminded, fingers held up.

“What did you just say?!” Tryndamere turned redder than he already was –or was that just the lighting?– and took his final step forward. He was asking for it. Katarina had never said no to beating the shit out of anyone asking for it.

“Time up.”

The uppercut that connected with the brute's chin probably hurt the redhead more than it hurt him, something she quickly fixed with a spinning kick to his diaphragm. Staggering back from the force, the man crashed into the tables behind him, making the summoners there scatter like ants.

Katarina felt the world momentarily turn and yes, maybe the spinning part of her kick hadn't been such a bright idea, after all. Still, Tryndamere proved to be much more resilient than she thought and recovered quickly, fast enough to grab the nearest table and throw it at her with surprising force. Katarina, dizzied from her own earlier movement, didn't trust herself to dodge and blocked it with her forearms, directing most of the force to the side yet still receiving enough to _really_ feel it as she was shaken a few steps back.

The pain, the loss of ground, made her pride and blood boil. Within seconds, she would have pounced with her hidden knives drawn, if not for the arms holding her still from behind.

“Katarina, no!” Sarah Fortune's voice from her left side and Leona's from her right came simultaneously. And although the gunslinger was someone Katarina could fight on a good day, Leona's physical strength was –and this hurt to admit– considerably greater.

Braum and Taric held Tryndamere back on the other end. The tension continued to electrify the air and make the crowd part further, stares all around, until–

A silver-haired head came into view.

Like a cooling spring, Ashe's presence filled the space and ended the struggle. One look and a single motion of her hand was enough to make Tryndamere straighten up.

“Go on, I'll be right behind you.” she said, not so much a suggestion as it was a command. The Freljord champions did not question her as they started to retreat, yet the queen did not immediately follow. Instead, she turned to Katarina.

“Well, if it isn't the queen of killstealing.” the assassin greeted with no small amount of sarcasm. She harshly shrugged out of Leona's loosened grip, adjusting her leather jacket. If the asshole messed it up she was going to shove her dagger up his …throat, the next time they were on the Fields.

“Come with me.” Ashe spoke calmly as ever, regal, leading the way outside, to where a hundred pairs of eyes wouldn't be trained on them. Katarina briefly debated figuratively flipping her off and leaving from another exit, but her curiosity won over. She obliged her.

Outside, the cool night air was a small relief. Ashe didn't stop until they were a good ways from the club, to a small, easily overlooked park. Katarina had never paid any attention to it before, and certainly didn't think it was maybe, perhaps, sort-of nice, with its pond and its red flowers on the tall bushes closing it off.

“Oh, good. I thought you'd maybe walk us all over the Institute grounds before you tell me what the _hell_ you _want_.” the redhead emphasized her words, topped them off with a cutting glare. Ashe was an enigma, always yet especially in that moment, and the fact Katarina didn’t feel like keeping up her act as a complete asshole around her made her double up on her efforts to be one.

Ashe didn't speak as she walked closer, staring coolly into her eyes. “Take off your jacket.”

Katarina was torn between swearing and laughing at the absurdity of the –demand?– request. Maybe she wasn't the most drunk person in the park after all–and it was just the two of them. Instead, she went for a smirking eyebrow-raise. “I like where this is going.”

The Frost Archer softly raised her own perfectly arched eyebrow and shook her head. Katarina may or may not have imagined the ghost of a smile playing at her glossy lips. Once the jacket was abandoned over the back of the nearest bench, Ashe's gaze traveled down to Katarina's forearm. Black and blue was already breaking across her skin. It wasn't a pretty sight.

The queen reached for her belt and retrieved a small flask. The assassin could guess it was some sort of healing potion before she saw the results. The question was, would she let Ashe use it on her? Her Noxian pride was betting on _hell no_.

But Ashe reached forward and took her hand.

It was the way she did it, out of everything else, that made Katarina entirely freeze.

Soft, like that same hand had not killed hundreds, a dozen or more among them from Freljord. Like what stood before her was not one of Noxus' most successful killing machines, but a human being no different than herself. Like she was deserving of healing, like she hadn't thought about killing Ashe before, even outside the Fields. Like she wasn't thinking it then.

Katarina failed to notice the contents had been poured on her bruises until she felt the tickling sensation of tissue rebuilding itself. She pulled her hand back to her side as though she’d been burned.

“I apologize for this.” Ashe said, impossibly blue eyes looking guiltier than she sounded, as if she had done anything wrong. “Have a nice night, Sinister Blade.”

Katarina pulled the jacket back over her shoulders, long after Ashe was gone.

She suddenly felt sober and that was never a good thing. Her mind was starting to relapse into the strange scene from moments prior, something she wanted to forget rather than remember. With hasty steps, the assassin made her way to a different club, ordered their strongest drink and downed it in one go. Then another, then another.

In the small hours of the morning, she went back to the summoner dorms with a blue-eyed girl whose name she would not bother to remember when the sun rose.


	2. Chapter 2

**[Ashe]**

_The Queen of Freljord versus Noxus_ _’ most infamous assassin –a rivalry of kingdoms?_

Ashe had to roll her eyes at yet another gossip show spreading lies for views. Their ‘dispute’ was all over the television and had yet to be shadowed by the next big thing. Everyone already seemed convinced the two of them hated each other, which was entirely inaccurate and if Ashe was being completely honest, mildly irritating. She didn’t hold a fraction of contempt towards the Sinister Blade, as neutral to her as Freljord to Noxus itself. The whole thing was a misunderstanding blown out of proportion.

In her eyes, at least. She wondered, idly, if Katarina actually despised her as much as her killer glares would suggest or was simply salty about the killstealing incident. With Noxus, it was quite often hard to tell. And the assassin was considered the ‘face’ of her kingdom for a reason.

Days passed and the tension was beginning to die down. Ashe had been far too busy to keep track of the news anyway and more often than not the two of them barely glanced at each other outside of matches, each seated at their own tables at the cafeteria, with their own group.

At some point during breakfast, Taric mentioned Noxus to Tryndamere, who scoffed in response. Ashe had not been keeping track of the conversation, but the mention did make her gaze seek out a particular shade of crimson red, always seated diagonally from her, halfway across the massive chamber.

Katarina and Talon always sat alone, keeping a third seat vacant on their table, which, for as long as Ashe could remember, had never been filled. They definitely weren’t the friendliest of the bunch, but there was something particularly dark about the assassins in that moment. Like a shroud, heavy and suffocating, sitting atop their shoulders, pressing them down. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashe noticed the redhead’s breakfast was mostly untouched, her jade eyes trained on one of the giant screens replaying matches from yesterday yet a million miles away.

She was never given the time to ponder on the matter further, as one glance at the clock was enough to remind her of the upcoming ranked match starting in less than a quarter.

Politely, Ashe excused herself from her group, making for one of the Institute’s massive arenas.

… 

The shrill sound of a nexus breaking cut through the air.

Ashe stood on the winning side, a satisfied smile plastered on her face as she lowered her bow. The enemy team was huffing and throwing dirty glances towards her and Kayle, the immortal of the match in more ways than one, who easily carried them to victory on her white wings. Ashe would not have gotten strong enough to score triple after triple kill, if it wasn’t for her aid.

Uncharacteristically enough, Katarina, on the defeated side, this time, was the only one who didn’t bother expressing her displeasure at the loss. She held that same distant look since morning, there in body but certainly not in spirit. Ashe studied as the painted boredom on her face gradually morphed into irritation during the teleporting process, the more she talked to her summoner through their mental link.

The reason for their conflict became evident as soon as the match’s results were shown on stage; the man was demoted to Platinum and deemed the main reason for the loss. He seemed downright spiteful about the criticism he received from the media, yet it was as soon as they stepped out of the arena that his temper reached a boiling point. 

“You want to be mad at someone, get mad at yourself.” Katarina said to the Noxian who had been itching for a fight with his teammates. Anything, to throw the blame off of him. “Sure, the jungler played like a scared little shit, but if you can’t handle how an assassin works, you shouldn’t have summoned me.”

Kayle was the first to halt in her steps, subtly angling her body towards the pair. Ashe’s eyes leapt from her to the scene. Vladimir, too, lingered in the area, on the opposite side.

The sky darkened with clouds. The summoner’s expression mirrored it, twisting into a hateful scowl. “Darius handpicked me himself. I can summon every single Noxian champion and excel!”

 _Typical Noxian arrogance._ Ice-blue eyes turned in an exasperated roll.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who Darius picks. _I_ wouldn’t have chosen you. So, next time, do yourself a favor –don’t waste my time.” Katarina said cuttingly and began to walk away, leaving him behind like something unworthy of her attention.

It was that blatant disregard that lit the fuse, that sent him well over the edge. The five steps she took were the calm before the storm.

“I wasn’t going to. You nor your unstable sister who cost me my diamond rank!”

Katarina stopped dead in her tracks.

Everything happened too fast after that.

In a flash the assassin was onto him, eyes set to kill, her knife barely grazing his neck before Kayle’s _intervention_ came around him, knocking her several meters back. The Judicator landed between her and the summoner, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him further behind, to create some much-needed distance. Ashe’s body moved instinctively, on a mind of its own.

Cold fingers dug into Katarina’s shoulder and forearm, calling ice to her aid. The area began to freeze, slowing the assassin’s movements enough for Vladimir to catch up and restrain her other side. “Calm down.” Ashe pulled at her, but Katarina refused to see reason.

It was the moment Ashe took a glimpse at her face that she understood; that hollow, enraged look in her eyes, she had seen it somewhere before. On the beasts she used to hunt long before she was queen, long before her bow allowed her to command Freljord’s ancient frost-essence. It was a state when they couldn’t be saved, when their bloodlust had taken over, turned into an unstoppable frenzy that rendered them dangerous. Murderous.

Ashe wondered what sort of training could have possibly made her this way. Who did it, demand of her to turn into a machine that could only seek blood.

In those seconds of doubt, she allowed her grip to loosen. Katarina twisted sharply –an elbow snapped against Ashe’s jaw.

The queen’s whole head reeled to the side, white locks of hair falling onto her face. Her world shifted on its axis for a moment. Chilly fingers rose to the side of her chin, where a deep bruise was already forming.

 _Don’t let go of enraged Noxians. Noted._ They could really pack a punch.

“I will kill you.” Katarina said in a way that did not at all sound like her usual self. No arrogant charm –instead, raw, glacial malice. “I am going to kill you.” A threat that was a promise.

Ashe let out a sigh. She didn’t want to hurt her, she really didn’t, but –the queen grabbed her hand with newfound purpose this time, getting in front of the assassin to block her view of her target. “I’m sorry for this.” Blue locked onto frenzied green. Katarina’s wrist froze over, pale fingers going numb; only then did she drop her blade.

“I’m not.” Vladimir said and hit a certain spot on the back of the redhead’s neck.

The assassin collapsed forward, like a robot whose switch had been turned to _off_. Ashe caught her before she could hit the ground, red locks spilling over her shoulder. The redhead smelled like leather and very expensive perfume, a warm, alluring mix of wild roses and spicy undertones. Gently, the queen guided them both down.

Looking over her shoulder, Kayle was a speck of white in the cloudy sky, holding a screaming summoner by the jacket. That was certainly one way to drive a point home.

Ashe would chuckle, if she could feel her jaw.

…

It was a miracle of the gods that there had been no cameras around, outside the arena. Ashe was able to get away with the bruise on her chin by selling a cheap lie nobody really bought but didn’t have a choice other than to accept. As for the summoner, she would not be surprised if she never heard from him again. His career was over the moment he crossed a Du Couteau. She could only hope the same wasn’t true for his life.

For the rest of the evening, Tryndamere kept eyeing her chin with worried half-glances. It was slightly amusing to Ashe how he tried to get her to talk about it, yet diplomacy had _never_ been his strong suit. 

“So… training accident.” He said.

“Indeed.” Ashe smiled privately.

“Because I could swear it looks like someone punched you. And in that case, all you have to say is their name and I can take care of them the Barbarian way.” He cracked his knuckles. 

“Tryndamere.” Ashe huffed fondly. “Training accident.”

In the end, the king gave up and simply offered his arm to escort her outside. Ashe took it easily, comfortable enough together by then to easily play the role of the perfect couple to the public. It was a lie, of course –one of the many the queen would forever upkeep for the sake of her people. At the very least, it was a lie she could be content with. Maybe, even, someday bring herself to be happy about it. But part of her knew that was merely wishful thinking.

Tryndamere was objectively handsome, with his ripped physique and strong jaw, his striking eyes. Contrary to what his image might suggest, he was patient and kind, respectful. Quite literally the perfect husband –if Ashe had ever wanted one. Instead, her eye had always been attracted to long lashes, curves and dark, fatal smiles.

Lost in thought, she didn’t realize how much time passed until loud bass reached her ears.

Sovereign, the Institute’s most famous nightclub, was packed with people. Ashe expected no less from a Friday in League grounds. There was a chaotic mix of summoners and champions alike, some celebrating victories while others drank their problems away in the dimmer corners of the massive space.

Ashe took her seat at the reserved table on the VIP upper floor, where only champions and summoners above Diamond rank were allowed. Naturally, that made it considerably less crowded. Quieter and most importantly, a safe sanctuary from any potential stray cameras.

Ashe tentatively sipped from her drink while Tryndamere downed his in one go. After the tenth round for him, her still at her very first, it was evident he was beginning to lose touch with the real world. Braum, opposite her, was faring no better. Easily the most sober of the group, the queen allowed her gaze to roam across the neon-lit space; until it came to rest on familiar crimson.

It was strange to see Katarina on the upper floor, usually at the heart of the commotion below, playing drinking games while several fangirls hung from her arms. The ‘bad playgirl’ of Noxus had a reputation with the fairer sex, to say the absolute least. Rumor had it she always returned to her suite with a woman –and never the same one. 

Right there, however, she was entirely alone, only her tense profile visible to Ashe as she desperately tried to get someone on the phone. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Each failed attempt left her movements more frustrated than before, until she dropped her black-and-red smartphone onto the table, bringing a hand up to her temple.

Ashe wasn’t certain what on earth compelled her to head towards her, but before she knew what she was doing she had already stood. It was a terrible idea. She entertained the notion of just taking a turn and going anywhere else instead –it wasn’t like her and the Sinister Blade had anything to say.

Alas.

“Hey.” Ashe started, drumming her fingers on her glass. “This seat taken?” Katarina slowly angled her chin to look at her, confusion coloring her pretty eyes under the club’s lights, yet motioned with her hand for her to sit. “Did the High Council chew you up too bad or…?”

Katarina let out a hollow chuckle. “You’d be surprised how much you can get away with by paying the right people off–”

Her voice cut off sharper than normal at the end, green flickering to Ashe’s chin before falling back to her own drink. The queen only then realized she'd forgotten to take a healing potion for the bruise. She tried to convince herself she wasn't starting to grow self-conscious over it. Surely it wasn’t that bad, was it?

“What are you drinking?” the Sinister Blade asked, cocking her head towards Ashe’s glass.

“Purple rain cocktail?” The queen twirled the vodka-mixed drink around.

The Noxian shook her head as though utterly disappointed. “Weak.”

“It is _not_.” Ashe could take offense to that.

“Drinks are on me.” Katarina said, motioning towards the bartender to bring two. “ _Actual_ drinks.” A little smirk accompanied the jab. As soon as the no-doubt Noxian beverage arrived, the assassin took the first glass and wordlessly offered it to her.

Ashe was left confused by the unexpected decent gesture for a moment. Then its meaning dawned on her; it was the assassin’s way of an apology. Cold fingers wrapped delicately around the glass, brushing Katarina’s for a split second. This time, the assassin did not pull away offended by her touch.

The queen took a generous gulp from the dark, hypnotizing liquid, feeling the burn all the way down her throat. “Oh darn.” She said. It was good, but it hit _hard_.

A buzzing sound from the table interrupted whatever remark Katarina was about to make. Ashe witnessed her reach for her phone like a woman possessed. The hint of hope in her eyes faded to nothingness at a glance of the caller ID. It was replaced by anger so fast it could only be reflexive.

“I said report and don’t _bother_ me tonight.” She hissed at whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end.

As she lowered the phone, milliseconds before the screen turned black once more, Ashe’s archer-keen eye caught the list of recent calls. The whole column of unanswered ones had Cassiopeia’s name on them.

The one person in the world the infamous Katarina Du Couteau, usually having anyone and anything she wanted, just couldn’t seem to reach. The one person that held such a huge sway over her mood. The singular trigger that could make her attempt to kill a summoner in cold blood within Institute grounds, effectively throwing her career down the drain.

_Could it be that Noxus’ deadliest tool actually cares about something?_

Ashe felt her eyes open to a picture different than the one the world was shown, the one she had believed until that point, since she had joined the League. A lot of things started to make sense, suddenly, like the vacant seat at the breakfast table, or the alarm that flashed through the redhead’s eyes the time Cassiopeia had called.

_Or the fact that she looks like she's... in pain._

Absent thought, Ashe reached a hand up to Katarina’s leather-clad bicep, effectively pulling her out of her flaring temper. Their gazes met. “Are you alright?” she asked.

And for a moment, for the briefest of moments, so fast it surpassed the speed of light, there was something _cracked_ in the very depths of the assassin’s green eyes.

As quickly as it came, Katarina leaned back, one arm slung over the back of the couch and threw her most arrogant grin. Ashe’s hand fell. She didn’t like what she saw, then, the perfectly constructed face of Noxus staring back at her. 

“I didn’t know you were so invested in my well-being, Frost Archer.” Her voice dripped with suggestive sarcasm, a sharp, horrible contrast to her earlier realness. “But look at me –I’m great.”

Yet.

 _I’m not_ , that look in her eyes had whispered, seconds ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**[Katarina]**

Katarina was in a bad mood.

Which, granted, was true more often than not, lately, but her idiot of a summoner was not making things easy on her. From one bad play to another, she was quickly getting left behind on the power scaling and very easily burst down by Malzahar. After the third death, the situation escalated to her being kept far back under the relative safety of her tower, while her opponent laughed on the other end. Katarina went through all the breathing exercises she knew to keep herself in check, to no avail.

The angrier she got, however, the more terrified the damn magician became through their link and the worse he screwed up –if that was even possible. It was a vicious cycle of pure frustration. _Let it be over. I need to kill something._ Nerves straining, Katarina was more than tempted to close herself off and disconnect him entirely –it wasn’t like his will could ever be powerful enough to stop her.

Still, she roamed around with the hope that perhaps an opponent let themselves vulnerable long enough for her to secure even a single kill. Just _one_ , for pride’s sake.

Luck smiled upon the determined. As did Katarina, as soon as her eyes landed on Ashe’s and Leona’s enemies running away on critically low health. The assassin immediately dashed into the opportunity.

One thankfully accurate _flash_ later, the Sinister Blade spun gracefully in the air and threw two knives into Varus’ heart, before she _shunpo’ed_ onto Nami, stabbing her through with her sword. The fish slid lifeless at her feet. An empowering sensation rolled down Katarina’s spine.

 _“Red team double kill!”_ the announcer gleefully spoke over the Fields.

“Um.” Ashe lowered her bow slowly, a questioning glint in her icy eyes.

Katarina twirled a knife around her fingers, giving back a faux innocent look. “What.”

“Now who steals the kills.” Ashe asked lightly in her silvery-high voice, not one bit irritated.

“I secured them.” Katarina corrected in her most charming smile. Leona rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I clearly had them.” Ashe replied easily, all confidence in her skill. If a small part of Katarina found it slightly sexy… well. It sort-of was. But then again, from the goody-two-shoes queen of Freljord, she should be appalled to even consider that. “So _you’re_ welcome.”

A vein popped up on the assassin’s temple at that. “Pfft. Evidently not.”

“How so?”

“You want me to believe you’d have killed them both with no ultimate and no vision, at that distance? You’re not _that_ good, Frost Archer.” She smirked, walking past the AD-carry as she recalled back to base.

Of course, Katarina had seen the queen pull some incredible stunts with that bow before, so she was entirely bullshiting for a reaction. As it turned out, Ashe’s glare of irritation, well and truly capable of turning lesser women to ice, was every bit what she had opted for. It was no small feat to get under her calm, controlled, cool-as-a-cucumber exterior. The redhead gave herself a pat on the back for that one.

 _Well, well. Looks like the queen of ice has some fire in her, after all._ She thought, amused.

Perhaps the match was not entirely a waste of her time. Perhaps, Katarina thought mischievously, she could find ways to entertain herself.

…

Throughout the following twenty minutes, Katarina kept selfishly claiming kills, until Ashe finally rose up to the challenge and the game turned into a competition between the two of them. They barely even registered their team’s comeback until they were both furiously beating on the opposing nexus, eager to see the outcome of their contest.

The blue construct shattered in a deeply satisfying sound. Katarina wasted no time extending her hand, palm-up, summoning a hologram of the match results.

And –they were evenly matched on kills. _Shit._

“So I guess this proves it.” Ashe shrugged, bringing her crystalline bow across her back in a graceful, practiced movement. “I have more assists. So I win.”

Katarina gave out a bark of a laugh. “You actually count _assists_? What are you, a _support_?”

Ashe’s expression fell flat. “Of course I count assists, seeing as some of them are actually _stolen_ kills.”

Katarina clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “At least some of us don’t have a Leona spoon-feeding us kills the whole time.”

“Sun, give me patience.” Leona huffed from behind them.

“At least some of us realize we are in a team instead of going off one-versus-four by ourselves.”

“And securing a stylish triple.” Katarina winked at her, to which Ashe’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be jealous, Freljordian. Only Noxians have the guts to go in for high risk, high reward plays like that.” The queen opened her mouth to respond, but Katarina checked her phone and pretended to have business to attend. It was only half a lie. “I’ll let you soak in defeat for now. Later.”

A loud huff came in reply from behind her.

 _Who would have thought the stiff ruler of the ice-mountains would be so fun to tease._ The assassin thought with a secret, pleased smirk.

…

Katarina had been blowing off the steam of the recent match at the gym when her phone gave a distinct ‘ _gling’_.

She wasn’t done with her workout, so she ignored it in favor of throwing more rapid hits at the punching bag unlucky enough to be her target for the evening. As far as she knew, Cassiopeia mostly called the rare times she needed something, and Talon wouldn’t be back from his intel-gathering mission in Freljord for a few days yet. Everyone else by default could go fuck themselves.

Punches rained harder on the black surface of the sandbag, turning it flat from the force. Thinking of her sister, however briefly, reminded her of her most recent breakdown upon glancing at herself in a reflection. It reminded her of the helplessness Katarina felt at being locked out, of her room and her life, while Cassiopeia fell further into isolation and self-destruction. All the unanswered calls of the past days. All her wondering if perhaps the woman finally found something that could harm her impenetrable skin and scales, like she’d wanted since her transformation. 

While the redhead was sober, that thought was the equivalent to opening a can of worms.

Katarina doubled down on her assault, gritting her teeth as she took her overpowering rage out on the punching bag. The whole thing shook from its hinge. Her knuckles turned an angry shade of red from the abuse. It stung like hell, but physical pain was beautiful when it made her forget about the emotional hurt she never truly had the strength to face.

Finally out of breath, the assassin wiped the sweat off her brow with her towel and went to check her phone. _“Talon is back early. Come to my room in 10’.”_ Read the message from Cassiopeia.

Katarina closed her eyes, wanting to slap herself. The _one_ time she didn’t rush to the damn thing. _Motherfucker._

She gathered her things and dashed out the threshold.

The glare she received upon pushing open her sister’s unlocked door could petrify people even without her powers. Katarina matched it with one of her own, because she wouldn’t be the one getting crap for being late when she was left wondering if Cassiopeia was alive for two whole _days_. She had to check her most recent matches just to be certain.

“Look who decided to check her phone.”

“Coming from you, that’s fucking _rich_.” Katarina spat back.

“I think we have more pressing issues to stress over.” Talon’s voice came from the side, diffusing the tension.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” The redhead spoke.

“Neither did I but the gods were merciful.” He let out a faint sigh. “There was no reason to stay there and freeze my ass off any longer, when I managed to verify our runaway spy _isn’t_ in Freljord.”

Katarina’s eyes widened. “ _What_.”

“It’s a good thing.” Cassiopeia said, the epitome of calculating calm. The older sibling failed to see how, until she explained: “Because if he thought the ice kingdom itself wasn’t safe to hide from us, there is only one place in the world he could be. The one place where he thinks we cannot kill him –right here, in the Institute.”

“He’s hiding _here_?” the redhead hissed. She was going to find the damn weasel and end him slowly.

“He could be posing as a summoner, a merchant, a paparazzi or anything in between. We have his general location –we don’t have him, yet.” Cassiopeia said. “But I wouldn’t worry. Tryndamere and Ashe know exactly where he is.”

“Yeah and how are you going to extract that information out of them?” Katarina asked.

“Oh, I’m not.” Cassiopeia smiled darkly. Paused. “ _You_ are.”

 _Say what._ “How the fuck. Do you suppose I walk up to the Barbarian idiot and ask him where his court buddy is so I can kill him?”

“No, I suppose you walk up to Ashe…” Cassiopeia slithered closer to make her point, laying a clawed hand on Katarina’s shoulder. Her voice dipped low, like sharing the world’s deadliest secret. “And take a page straight out of my book.”

Katarina froze. Green stared into green. “...Are you serious?” Cassiopeia shrugged one shoulder, like this was the most natural thing in the world. “She’s _married_.” The assassin almost stumbled over her words. “And happily so. They were named couple of the year—”

“Kat.” Cassiopeia cut her off with an annoyed, disbelieving frown. “Please. Her _political_ marriage to stabilize her kingdom so they stop killing each other like savages? She plays the part of the happy wife well, I’ll give her that much. But lying is second nature to me and I _know_ a lie when I see one.” she said. “Look at Tryndamere. He’s hot. He’s loyal. He follows her around like a lost puppy. And yet she’s never looked at him that way _once_. Trust me –she’s trapped between her throne and her people.”

_Trapped._

“And now you will come along, the embodiment of freedom and temptation. Use your charm. She _won’t_ resist you.” Cassiopeia reassured, with that same certainty like she always knew what went on inside people’s heads. “I’m not even making this hard for you, sister. I know your type –she’s right up your alley.” She smirked, ruthless.

“How about you tell me why this is so important to you, first.” Katarina narrowed her eyes. “Is it really just for our family’s name to the Elite? Because it feels like it’s the information _you_ sent him to retrieve that caused this.”

Cassiopeia’s touch on her shoulder hardened. “I have always worked in favor of our family first and foremost.” She said slowly. “You need the intel that he has as much as I do. Don’t _question_ my motives.”

Katarina set her jaw.

Talon helplessly looked between the two of them…

…until she relented.

“Alright.” After her father’s disappearance, Katarina wouldn’t have gotten ten steps into Noxian politics as the head of House Du Couteau without Cassiopeia’s aid. Even in the state she was in after the curse, her judgement had always been sound, her genius always one step ahead of the rest. She was made for the intricate mindgames, the same way Katarina was made for killing. They were Noxus’ deadliest matching set –and she could not go and break that now.

 _Alright._ The assassin thought and turned on her heel. She had a mission to complete.

…

The Institute’s luxurious champion dorms were structured in such a way that opposing factions never really got the chance to cross and cause trouble.

Demacia and Ionia stood diametrically across from Noxus, practically in a different building. The ‘neutral’ hallway stood closest to the kingdom of fire and blood, with Piltover and Freljord, at least those allied with Ashe, next in line. Shurima and all humanoid Void champions shared a different structure, as well. The non-human inhabitants and Shadow Isle champions, due to their volatile nature, had their own accommodations.

Using this to her advantage, the assassin confidently took a turn towards Freljord’s and Piltover’s shared training room, knowing fully who she was about to find there, at one o’clock in the night. Ashe kept so busy with matches and running her kingdom from afar during the day, she regularly stayed up late to train –she said so herself in an interview Katarina had stumbled upon on tv.

The chamber was lit through bright crystals in the place of lights, holding various bronze training dummies, weapon racks and targets neatly arranged within. It was nothing like its Noxian counterpart, decorated in banners and sporting black tiles, instead giving off a calmer aura, more refined.

A steady _thud_ could be heard even from the threshold, and Katarina didn’t have to search to find Ashe before the targets, her silver-white hair glowing under the crystals almost like a halo.

“Hey. Think fast.” Katarina said and threw a thin knife over the queen’s shoulder, directly at the heart of the target ahead. It tucked in the middle of several icy arrows.

Ashe visibly tensed and jumped, but it wouldn’t have grazed her either way. It wasn’t _that_ smart to cut the woman Katarina was supposed to be seducing, especially considering she had already, albeit unknowingly, hit her once. That dark bruise against the archer’s gods-sculpted features hadn’t sat right with her.

“What–” Ashe took a breath to compose herself. “First of all, what are you doing here and second of all, what are you _doing_?” A small line appeared between her arched eyebrows.

“It’s Noxian for ‘hello’.” A permanent smirk on her lips, Katarina leaned against a wall, shrugging one shoulder. She twirled another knife between her fingers.

“Giving people heart attacks?” Ashe faced her fully.

“It wouldn’t have touched you.”

“What if I had dodged _left_?”

Katarina paused briefly. “Well… it’s a good thing you didn’t.”

Teal orbs rolled at her. “And you’re here because you missed me that much since our match?” the queen jabbed.

It was Katarina’s turn to eyeroll. “Don’t flatter yourself. The fucking devil of a Yordle littered our training room with mushrooms. I don’t have time for this shit, so this room’s closest.” she lied with a completely straight face, just like Cassiopeia had taught her to.

A small smile graced the queen’s pink lips. “Technically, I could report you.”

“Technically, you’re just scared to lose to me in target practice.” Katarina walked towards the archer, picking a new target and throwing her knife dead-center.

“Alright. We’ll settle this right now.” Ashe came next to her, aiming her bow and letting the arrow fly.

The two of them took turns, everything piling up at the middle of the target in a chaotic mix of blades and arrows. Just when it seemed there wasn’t room for anything else, they each found the slightest millimeter of space to lodge in another.

Katarina studied the look of concentration on Ashe’s face during her turns, willing herself to do _something_. It was the first time in her life she chickened out of blatantly hitting on a girl, but it wasn’t easy when the said person was a –okay she could admit– gorgeous queen and married to boot. It wasn’t her opinion, it was a simple _fact_ , backed by countless people who nearly dropped dead seeing Ashe up close for the first time.

The Frost Archer aimed another arrow, eye narrowing for that perfect shot. Katarina mentally slapped herself to get her shit together.

 _Grow a pair and just_ do _it._

She carefully leaned into the queen's personal space, lips hovering over her ear, close enough to ghost over the shell. Katarina dropped her voice into a sensually low, cocky “You’ll miss.”

Ashe’s light perfume tickled her nose, faint undertones of lilies mixing so well with the natural chill her skin gave off, as though it was made specifically for her. Which it very well could be. Meanwhile, the arrow flew narrowly off the center.

Katarina leaned back, smirking to herself. She hadn’t thought that would work so well. _Not as cool as you seem, now, are you._

Ashe glared _daggers_ at the side of her head. “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“All is far in war and war.” as the Noxian saying went. Katarina’s knife once again hit its mark, an arrow wobbling underneath it.

The queen quickly lined up another shot, but something about it was different than the rest. Wispy tendrils of icy energy wrapped around her fingers. Katarina felt the cold echo across her whole side.

Ashe's eyes flashed a shimmering blue for a split second. 

When the arrow was let loose, it traveled the air in hypnotizing swirls of blue, until it crashed into the target’s heart, knocking off everything else on it. As if that wasn’t enough, it splintered at the impact, the shards lodging themselves into the two nearest targets’ bullseye as well, freezing them over.

The assassin’s jaw dropped. _What the—_ “That’s fucking cheating.”

It was Ashe’s turn to give off a cocky little smirk, which Katarina _definitely_ didn’t find attractive. “All is fair in love and war.” she said back.

“Love.” The redhead scoffed at the notion. “What’s that.”

Ashe regarded her with a peculiar look. “Kind of like winning, but lasting. I suppose.”

Katarina could swear up and down she’d never felt it, Noxians didn’t feel it, nor was there any use for it in their world. But the glimpses she may have had of it, in moments of weakness, in moments when she didn’t heed her father’s teachings and she didn’t know any better, she’d reckon it was more like losing.

She lost her mother, her father.

She lost Cassiopeia.

And because of it, _she_ was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, tell me your thoughts :) Feedback always helps writers grow.


	4. Chapter 4

**[Ashe]**

It was way too early for Ashe to be up.

Yet as soon as her eyes had opened, thoughts and worries about her kingdom hadn’t let her fall back to sleep. It was the norm for most of her days. At least, the days she _didn’t_ wake up bathed in cold sweat at yet another subconscious-created scenario of how she could fail her people.

 _Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._ She thought bitterly. _If only they knew._ But nobody knew save for her closest, most trusted circle of friends –and it was her duty to make sure the rest of the world _never_ found out.

The archer dressed in her battle attire, took a seat at the glass coffee table in her room and began to scan over the reports sent to her about the state of her lands, as well as the local chiefs’ latest disputes. Then, she proceeded to positively lose herself in the sheer paperwork she never would have thought a queen would have to endure. The track of time was lost to her until a familiar knock sounded at the door.

“It’s open.” she called without looking up from her work.

“Good morning–” Tryndamere said upon entering, the smile dying on his lips at the sight of all the signed stacks of papers. “Are you doing all this by yourself again?” he asked, approaching until he was leaning over her shoulder. “Didn’t we promise to split the stress in half?”

Ashe smiled. “I was up early and needed something to do. Make yourself at home, I’m almost done.”

The man gave her space to finish up, busying himself with browsing through the muted television. When the queen finally signed the last request addressed towards the crown, she rose and stretched, joining him on the blue couch. Wordlessly, he turned up the volume the slightest bit, giving her time to rub her eyes, tired after all that reading.

A very distinct laugh coming from the speakers broke Ashe out of her dizzied state. Throaty, confident to the point of arrogance but _just_ so, deep and boisterous. She recognized that voice.

_Katarina._

Tryndamere made a face, thumb moving over the remote to change the channel. Ashe stopped him. “Wait.” she said, eyes drawn to the screen replaying the previous day's interview of the infamous Sinister Blade, ever the people’s choice after important matches. It made sense –she probably had the biggest fan club out of every champion in the league. The audience just seemed _crazy_ about her. It wasn’t hard to see why, either. The attitude and the looks painted quite the picture.

 _“Now, shall we move to the fans’ messages?”_ the host of the match asked eagerly, to which the arena erupted in cheers.

 _“Yeah, it’s time to react to your bullshit again. I’m thrilled.”_ Katarina said flatly towards the crowd, who laughed in response. Ashe felt the very edges of her lips turn upward.

Tryndamere’s scowl only deepened. “Noxus’ most popular tool.” he commented. Ashe glanced at him but chose not to speak.

 _“Katarina, you’re a babe, I don’t think I could live without you.”_ The host read the first message.

_“Then die. Next.”_

_“Dear Sinister Blade, could you give me some dating advice to get the girl I want?”_ was the following question.

 _“Do I look like a love councilor to you?”_ Katarina asked. _“My advice is don’t be a pussy –unless you’re a Demacian, in which case that is your default state of being and you can’t be saved.”_

The man tried to hold back a grin. He read the next one. _“How much do your fans mean to you?”_

 _“Count the stars in the sky right now and you’ll know.”_ She replied easily. The crowd went ‘aww’. That… was surprisingly sweet of her.

_“But it’s morning.”_

_“My point exactly.”_ More laughter.

Ashe rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain a faint snicker. Tryndamere, however, had just about enough and muted the sound once more. His dislike of Katarina since the very first match they had as opponents, where the Sinister Blade wiped the floor clean with him, had been more than apparent. Ashe had never quite liked her attitude, but had never felt outright dislike either, even in situations where it could have been justified.

Tryndamere angled his broad chest towards the queen, taking her hand to get her attention. Blue eyes looked at him, ever calm, waiting.

“I can’t stand her and there’s nothing else on tv at the moment.” He said, using her hand to pull her a little closer. “But, I could still make the morning interesting… if you let me.” His lips moved closer to her neck.

Ashe’s frame locked up.

The chilly, gripping sensation that shot through her nervous system could only be described as panic.

She had hoped maybe one day the idea of them as an actual couple wouldn’t turn her off, but she still just _couldn’t_ bring herself to allow this, even after all their time together.

In a fraction of a second, she was pulling away as gently as she could, while every instinct screamed for a fight or flight. “I’m sorry.” she said with practiced calm she did not one bit feel. “I’ve got to go –but have an amazing day.” She wasn’t even certain what she was saying, her hand already turning the door handle just as Tryndamere rose to apologize.

And —she was out the door.

 _Tactical retreat._ Except there was nothing tactical about it. Ashe descended the stairs from the champion dorms so fast one would think she was being chased by a monster.

The crisp morning air was a relief. She breathed the scent of the earth in deep, calming her nerves as she slowed down. It was still very early, if there was not a soul in sight outside. The queen took the long, scenic walk towards the cafeteria, trying _not_ to think the whole way there.

But that was easier said than done when the scene from earlier brought another to the forefront of her mind, one she had locked somewhere in the back of it and thrown the key.

The feeling that washed over her when Tryndamere leaned close had been frigid, urgent denial. A cutting, sharp contrast to the molten, coiling warmth that wrapped around her gut when Katarina had done the exact same thing, that night during target practice. It had been so unexpected, Ashe had felt it so _strongly_ , she nearly let go of her bow instead of the arrow.

 _Stop it, stop it. Don’t be shallow –her personality isn’t even attractive._ Which was true. She was a sight to behold, that much was obvious, yet Ashe had always thought of her less as a human and more a ruthless machine of Noxus’ making, to find her attractive. Until recent events. And that was exactly where the problem began.

To cease the dangerous line of thinking, the queen shifted her focus to her ready latte, placed with a sweet smile on the counter. She thanked the middle-aged lady and took her heavenly-scented cup, turning around—

A bid too abruptly.

Ashe stumbled into black, tailored leather.

“ _Watch_ it—” a rude voice warned, too late. Her coffee wobbled and a few drops flew in the air, but the other person was _fast_ , taking her hand and angling it so they fell right back in the warm pool of liquid, rather than on her. Katarina stood right there in all her fiery-tempered glory, sporting a scowl.

“Nice reflexes.” Ashe said coolly, chin raised, concealing her embarrassment through practice and sheer force of will.

“Nice trying to throw that hot coffee all over my jacket.” Katarina’s green eyes narrowed. The rays of light entering through the large windows turned them a crystal shade of emerald only seen in the finest-cut gems. _Beautiful._ Ashe thought before she could stop herself. 

“I thought throwing things on people was Noxian for ‘hello’.” The queen smirked subtly. She would take her victories where she could.

“Touché.” Katarina uttered as she moved to the counter. “Just coffee. Black.” she ordered. “That thing gives me cavities just by looking at it.” Her hand motioned towards the queen’s cup.

Ashe narrowed her own eyes. Two could play at that game. “You’re one to talk. Black and boring.”

Katarina opened her mouth. Closed it. “Fuck _off_. This is what actual coffee looks like.” She took her own cup with a nod at the woman.

Ashe was torn between turning to leave and waiting for her. In the end, she asked “Are you coming to sit with me?” on impulse.

A flash of confusion passed quickly through the assassin’s eyes. She made to follow her, but then stopped. People were starting to come in, summoners and champions alike. “Not a great idea.” she said, glancing around as though it already hurt her image for them to be talking. Ashe gripped her cup a little harder, freezing the surface without noticing it. “See you ‘round.”

The queen went to her table in counted, even steps, sitting by herself. _What are you doing?_ She asked a mental projection of her psyche. You _are queen. Conduct yourself like one, think like one._

 _You are_ queen _._

…

Ashe hated matches with modifiers.

The Fields of Justice could turn from the default serene forest to a fiery hell, with all sorts of twisted creatures lurking in the jungle. There could be hail raining down from the skies, or fog so thick she couldn’t see past ten meters. That day, the modifier was stormclouds.

Teal eyes opened at the fountain, adjusting to the drizzle and the darkness. In the blue-glowing runes ahead of her, her teammates, too, looked around, evaluating the situation and each other. Ashe’s gaze fell onto light-green slitted eyes, brunette curls framing them under a serpentine headpiece and jade scales hugging a narrow waist.

It wasn’t often she saw Cassiopeia in matches, let alone in her own team. Looking at her then, the similarities to Katarina were blatant. From their fine, thin features, to their irises only a few shades apart. Yet where the assassin had a wilder beauty to her, the younger sibling’s was deeply polished, elegant. A Lady, if Ashe ever saw one.

Then claws flexed and a tail coiled. The image suddenly turned cold and imposing.

“Katarina is their mid laner. Are you sure you can harm dear big sister?” Renekton jabbed in his rumbling voice.

Cassiopeia’s eyes flew to him. Ashe didn’t know why anyone would willingly draw that glare to themselves. “I would worry more about Jax in their top lane skinning you into a nice, authentic lizard bag.” The way she delivered her line, she may as well have cast a knife. The Du Couteau paid no mind to his thunderous roar as she slithered to the shop, then to her lane.

Ashe studied her profile, but for the life of her, she couldn’t tell what the woman was thinking. She didn’t at all seem bothered to have to kill her sister, however briefly due to the magic surrounding the Fields. She didn’t seem like she felt _anything_.

Sona placed a comforting hand on Ashe’s shoulder, floating ahead. The queen took a deep breath, shut off her own emotions and headed for her lane. _Stay focused. Your people are watching._

The laning phase went by without incident. Like Cassiopeia had predicted – _and how did she know?_ – the match centered around the top of the map. Jax scored the First Blood, followed by Renekton teleporting and getting his revenge with the help of Warwick. Ashe kept gathering her strength for the teamfights to come.

 _“The Blue team has slain an enemy!”_ the announcer called.

Ashe’s eyes widened at the sight of Cassiopeia’s score changing, without an assist anywhere in their team to be seen. _She killed Katarina one-on-one?_ It wasn’t that the queen thought she couldn’t. Rather, that she _wouldn’t_.

“Bring up the replay, I want to see the kill.” She said out loud to her summoner. Within seconds, a magical swirl appeared before her, showing the scene, muted. Katarina yelled something before deflecting Cassiopeia’s claw, who hissed a response. The assassin clearly had an opening to stab her –Ashe had seen exactly how fast she was. She didn’t go for it. Cassiopeia on the other hand, looked into her eyes and unleashed her ultimate, breaking the petrified redhead with her claws. She looked downright _murderous_.

Whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t good.

To solidify that point, the half-serpent’s summoner disconnected after the kill. It lasted less than two minutes, but the pressure of what Cassiopeia felt must have overwhelmed him to the point of letting _go_.

Ashe faced ahead and willed herself to not look too deeply into it. _This is not your business. Focus._

But Katarina did not step foot in the middle lane after that. And for their team, it was _worse_.

She came bottom and killed Sona while Ashe wasn’t there, roamed top and scored a vicious double kill on the jungler and Renekton. The Frost Archer eyed the assassin's low health as she dashed into the jungle and followed along, narrowly missing the first arrow. She lost vision of her after it, the damn rain certainly not doing her any favors.

Navy boots splashed into the puddles on the ground as Ashe rapidly looked around. She felt danger was lurking near, _but where?_ Keen eyes scanned the trees and bushes like a hawk. Then—

The sky illuminated with a vein of lightning. Barely a flash, but enough for her to spot a shape in the shadows cast by the tree above her.

Katarina crashed into her along with the thunder.

Both champions fell into the river, with Ashe reacting _just_ fast enough to grab her hand and the knife in it, while pressing her down with her weight and an arrowhead aimed held straight at her forehead.

Rain beat down on them. Katarina’s wild eyes gleamed with cold purpose. There was no mistaking it; It wasn’t an acquaintance that Ashe was facing in that moment, but a _killer_.

Blood adorned the assassin’s brow, running down the scar on her otherwise flawless face. It brought her eyes out in a way that was so startling it couldn’t be ignored, even locked in a struggle between life and death. Perhaps _because_ of that very state.

Ashe pushed the arrow closer to her eyelid. Katarina kept her head as far back as she could, half into the shallow river, but there was nowhere else to go. That was when the queen realized –she could just call forth her ice to lengthen the point and that would be _it_. It would piece Katarina straight through her damningly pretty eye –their battle would end there.

Except.

She _couldn’t_ do it.

It was too cruel. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Taking advantage of her hesitation, the assassin gave a furious howl and shoved her off, practically kicking her to her feet from the force. Before Ashe could think, a flash of red rammed into her. Sharp pain erupted on her abdomen. A knife had pierced her _deep_ , possibly at a vital organ and she couldn’t see Katarina’s eyes anymore–

The sound of a breaking nexus drowned out everything.

 _“Red team’s surrender!”_ was announced.

Katarina didn’t move for the kill in the seconds that she could, simply standing against her, frozen. When she pulled back, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, there was unhindered surprise in her gaze. Relief. Then, something that lacked a name as she looked down at the wound on Ashe’s side.

The queen felt her legs give out. She collapsed against her, forehead knocking onto her shoulder. Katarina fell to her knees holding her, water from the river and the rain splashing everywhere. The assassin’s hand came to press at her injury, fingers immediately colored dark red, reducing the blood loss until the teleportation process began.

Gods –it _hurt_.

Ashe gripped at Katarina’s wet, torn jacket, shivering under the merciless rain. She didn’t think then that it was strange the assassin hadn’t pushed her off. She couldn’t think period. “Just a few seconds more. It’s alright.” The redhead kept her steady. Ashe closed her eyes. She could still faintly smell her perfume underneath the blood and soil. Somehow, it brought her a strange wave of comfort. She felt cold, but the area the assassin’s hand stood flat against was warm. Too warm. 

Then, bright light surrounded them.

…

Ashe opened her eyes on stage, to the cheers of countless fans. Her team stood by her side, all of their injuries reversed to nothingness, right down to the slightest tear on their clothes. She still felt a bit disoriented, but it was good to be back. Endlessly relieving.

The defeated team was the first to withdraw from the stage, as was customary. The winners and their summoners lingered, until the MVP and the people’s choice were announced, to stay longer for interviews. As luck would have it, Ashe was both. She and her mage remained on stage, while everyone else took their leave for the backstage.

The queen kept her tone even, her body language regal yet fluid as she answered questions from the audience and the host about the match. If she felt entirely unfocused, she didn’t let it show.

When the event came to its conclusion, Ashe took her leave.

Her steps gradually slowed. Strained voices were coming from the ‘waiting’ room, where she had left her bag and phone. Just outside of it, she halted altogether.

“You messed _up_.” Cassiopeia’s smooth voice had never sounded so venomous before. “If _I_ saw you holding back you can be certain Swain did, as well.”

“Swain this, Swain that. Can the Elite _fuck off_ of our business for five _seconds_.” Katarina snapped.

“This is the way it is and the way it’s always been.” The younger woman lowered her voice, though that didn’t make it any less deadly. “Father was right. You don’t have the aptitude–”

“Let me tell you what father _was_ —!”

It felt wrong to linger back and overhear their conversation any longer. Ashe had to enter the room to gather her things at some point. After a deep breath she pushed the door open and upon doing so Katarina immediately cut herself off.

Cassiopeia’s eyes darted to her. She shifted her expression, her whole stance, from lethal to neutral so fast Ashe was left wondering if she imagined it all. Except for the terrible storm inside the redhead’s eyes, the tightness to her jaw, like she was about to literally _explode_.

“Frost Archer.” Cassiopeia nodded at her on her way out.

Katarina did not bother to hide her nerves as she slapped her hand against the lockers. A deafening _bang_ was followed by deafening silence. Her skin broke, but she didn’t seem to care. Ashe was left entirely uncomfortable in the beats that followed, not knowing what to do. She made to leave, but something pulled her back.

She took a card out of her bag and quickly wrote down her number, leaving it on the bench Katarina sat on, face hidden by her hand at her temple. Shadowed green eyes followed the movement.

“If you ever want to talk.” Ashe explained. “There won’t be any politics or kingdoms or titles involved.”

And with that, she closed the door behind her, giving the assassin her space.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update, to everyone who follows this story. Work is very busy so I may have to slow my uploads to one per week. Special thank you to Aryll and AnotherSmallWriter for your comments!

**[Katarina]**

Katarina had always loved heights.

The feeling of standing on top of the world, looking down at everything shrunk into insignificance. The stillness, the quiet. Growing up she used to think the higher up she was, the lesser things could reach her, hurt her. And it was partially true –except it didn’t seem to work so great for her, anymore. Save for the times she was drunk to bliss, the pain in her chest was a constant companion. 

A constant reminder.

At the very top of the Institute’s massive golden clocktower, Katarina sat with her back to the wall, absently gazing at the world below. The clouds in the sky obscured the sun, casting a grey filter over the earth that she felt was for the better. Colors weren’t her thing.

Her mind was left free to roam. Naturally, it lapsed back into better times, when in a similar situation, in her mid-teenage years, Talon was freaking out, changing ten different colors a minute while trying to get her to come down from her perch _–“Your father will kill me if you get hurt, do you do it on_ purpose _?”_ Cassiopeia, on the other hand, had always kept her effortless cool, appraising her with a mischievous eye before speaking. _“You look like a very bored gargoyle, sister.”_

She was about the one person in the world the assassin would come down for, if she so much as asked.

She still was. But nothing was the same as back then.

It had been two years, three months, twelve days since her transformation. Yes, Katarina had been keeping count. Because from that day onward, nothing was the same. From that day on, nothing would _ever_ be the same again.

_The assassin was still on her mission, perched up high and waiting. Her nerves were shot to hell –her fucking idiot of a target was yet nowhere in sight. One glance at her watch let her know she wouldn’t be making it in time to see Cassiopeia off._

_The youngest Du Couteau was departing for the sands of Shurima –more sands than Shurima, for there was nothing left of the ancient empire but a shitload of dust— chasing a lead for a power lost in time that she had obsessed over, ever since their mother had translated the stele existing within their family for generations, describing it._

_The last thing she ever read to them –for the next morning she had been found poisoned in their very home, her research_ gone _._

_Cassiopeia had always been like her. An icon of elegance and deadly charm, ever thirsty for knowledge, a genius in all matters surrounding politics and reading people. The most beautiful blade in their father’s arsenal, contrary to Katarina being the sturdiest, most jagged, bloodiest._

_‘The Crown Jewel and the Sinister Blade of Noxus’ they were known as, across the entirety of the Elite._

_Katarina didn’t like the idea of Cassiopeia so far away without Talon and her by her sides for protection, but their father had allowed it and she never had a say in matters when he did. It was tempting, even for him, the promise of such power._

_The redhead fell back with a huff, taking her phone out to fire a quick text_ – _“I won’t make it in time. Travel safe, yeah?”_

_“I’ll tell you all about it when I return.” was the reply._

Looking back now, Katarina felt her eyes sting. She had said goodbye through a fucking text.

Cassiopeia never truly came back from that place.

…

Katarina turned a certain white card around between her fingers. She read the number on it so many times she practically memorized it by that point. The loopy writing glared at her. _“If you ever want to talk.”_ Ashe’s voice, that _look_ in her eyes, haunted her.

Her kindness haunted her.

The thought of using it against her, haunted her.

Katarina killed people, yes, but not in the form Cassiopeia did. Once, the younger sister had claimed the assassin’s way was far more merciful than her own. Charm her path into hearts only to poison them from within. Lie and lie and _lie_ to create the perfect dream only to reveal the nightmare behind it. Break people’s trust –break _them_.

 _Am I going to be the reason you never trust anyone again?_ she thought.

On the other hand, perhaps she was doing her a favor. Queens have no need of a heart and as icy as Ashe had first appeared to her, indeed she played the part well, she had recently found that wasn’t the case. Katarina could be her lesson about how deeply fucked up the world was. How messed up people were. How untrustworthy.

 _“Trust is a weapon to be used against you. As is hope. As is love.”_ her father’s words echoed in her mind.

Katarina set her jaw. She had to see this through. She’d always been disconnected from emotions during a mission. This had no right to be any different.

It wasn’t like she could get the information she needed any other way. The league’s magic made it so she couldn’t break into another champion’s room without their keycard. And if a clue to the whereabouts of Cassiopeia’s rogue agent was anywhere, it was there. The Frost Archer knew she was protecting him from something, but probably not what or who. There was no way he had admitted to being a spy for Noxus in her court. Tryndamere would have executed him on the spot.

The assassin huffed, fished her phone out of her jacket’s inner pocket and quickly typed the number. The other line rang for all of ten seconds.

_“This is Ashe.”_

Katarina felt a wave of unjustified nervousness roll down her stomach. _What the fuck is this shit._ “Hey. Remember when you gave me this little white card, here?”

A pause. _“…Katarina?”_ she asked.

“Do you give your personal number to a lot of people?” she teased.

 _“Oh, absolutely, I go about handing it down every day.”_ Ashe replied sarcastically. Then, on a serious note _“I didn’t think you’d actually call. Is… everything alright?”_

“Depends. I happen to be short on company for tonight.” Which was a lie because she was short on company every night, but always woke in the bed of a random pretty girl come morning. “Care to join for some drinks?” she said with all the confidence she didn’t feel in that moment.

 _“Oh.”_ Ashe said. Didn’t speak for a moment. Katarina wondered why she held her breath. _“It’s not very smart for people to see us. There will be too much gossip to deal with.”_

“That’s not a no.”

 _“No it’s not.”_ Ashe sounded like she was smiling.

“I’ll make sure to get a private booth. Sovereign, twelve o’clock?”

_“See you there.”_

_…_

The booth Katarina picked was quieter than the rest, tucked off into a corner of the upper floor, where glass windows took the place of walls and allowed a beautiful view of the lit Institute grounds. Jade eyes stared off into the distance, past the lights and towards the darkness, until a breeze of cold air and a whiff of expensive lilac perfume tickled her senses.

Katarina’s gaze fell on long lashes, glossy lips and a stylish navy shirt that hugged a slim frame _tight_. “Hi.” Ashe greeted with the smallest hint of a smile, blue eyes sparkling under the neon lights.

 _Gorgeous._ The word sprung to the forefront of the assassin's mind.

“What happened to keeping a low profile?” the redhead caught herself complimenting, the filter to her thoughts and words turned entirely off at the sight before her. 

“Maybe I decided not to overthink every aspect of my image, for one night.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Katarina said, pushed Ashe’s glass closer to her. Her fingers were always cool, but not in an unpleasant way, she noted as the queen took the beverage. “But let it be known your choice in company is questionable, at best.”

“Is it?” Ashe raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. The curve of her lips had no right being that hot. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Bottoms up, Frost Archer.” Katarina slipped on her most attractive smile and downed her drink. Ashe surprisingly kept up with her, although she couldn’t block the grimace fast enough. It was perhaps slightly endearing.

The new bartender brought them two more rounds at a motion of the redhead’s hand. She sauntered over to Katarina’s side and set the drinks down with an obvious hunger in her eyes, saying “They’re on the house.” It was a good thing she turned her back to them to walk over to the counter, because the frosted look Ashe levelled her with wasn’t something most people could withstand.

Katarina didn’t much like the deadly, cold-calm that came over Ashe’s features like a shroud, not after seeing her smiles, her features softened without the constant tension. She drew her attention by asking “Aren’t you Freljordians supposed to have the strongest drinks in all of Valoran?”

“I’m not sure this falls under that category. It tastes more like faintly sweet poison.” The ice slowly receding from her, Ashe licked her lips. A pair of green orbs followed the movement.

“Oh, queen Ashe, absolute lightweight.” The assassin teased, lips parting in a loopy grin.

Half a second later, her exposed side was freezing like an icicle had just been pressed to it. Katarina hid her reflexive jump with a glare. “Don’t call me that.” Ashe said calmly, withdrawing her hand back to her lap.

_Why do I have a feeling you don’t mean the ‘lightweight’ part?_

“Want to play a game?” she then asked, appraising Ashe with a mischievous eye. The queen narrowed her pretty eyes in interest. “Rules are simple.” Katarina set her phone down onto the table between them and picked a live match at random. “I choose one thing I think will repeat a lot and you another. Each time it does the other person has to drink.” Ashe’s lip twitched into a smirk in a way that was almost too attractive. “I call the idiot saying ‘ _Demacia_ ’.” Katarina made a stupid voice imitating Garen, to which the archer gave an airy laugh.

“I’m going to be cheap and call Rammus saying ‘ _ok_ ’.” The assassin huffed. That _was_ cheap, seeing as it was one of the few words in the spiked ball's vocabulary.

“As an added rule, we both take a shot in celebration every time Teemo dies.” Katarina leaned back, throwing Ashe a look that said ‘you know you want to’.

The queen relented. “Fine, but you’re going down.”

Nearly an hour later, the game concluded.

Katarina could not claim she had been paying as much attention to it as she was the archer herself –she didn’t even know which side won. She did know Garen had been shouting a lot and Teemo was feeding the whole enemy team.

Sometime between the first shots and drinks, Ashe had leaned closer. Green eyes had fallen from the screen to her cleavage, to her stunning profile. As the game and their level of intoxication progressed, the controlled mask Katarina had, for the longest time, mistakenly thought Ashe’s personality began to slip, with the queen snickering, or turning her head into the redhead’s shoulder as she laughed at the comments she made about Demacia.

And gods –she was _beautiful_. In every way. Everything about her.

And it would have been so much easier if that was true only for the outside.

Katarina was used to being around girls, used to picking whoever tickled her fancy for the night from the bunch. Money and fame were a deadly combination to add to beauty and they didn’t really care about her character as much as she didn’t give half a damn about theirs. There was never anything to see beyond the dolled-up shell, for most people, she believed. Herself included.

Ashe wasn’t like that. The more she saw, the less she _could_ see her as a piece of meat stressed enough for her to use and then discard. She was different in a way the assassin couldn’t place –as though in all the darkness in the world, she was a light. She was _good_.

Katarina didn’t want to hurt a good girl.

Ashe began to stand, bringing a hand over her temple at an obvious wave of dizziness. “Oh, darn. This has hit me hard.” She muttered, to which the redhead instinctively rose to steady her. The archer placed a hand just below her shoulder as a silent ‘thank you’.

The assassin _knew_ she could push the situation to her advantage, as easily as she could take Ashe outside and push her against something. In her current state especially, she didn’t seem like she would say no. But–

But.

The Sinister Blade looked towards the bartender, instead, appraising how good of a replacement she would be for the night. She would come back to her mission of getting into Ashe’s room another time, when she didn’t feel so confused, when she was drunk enough to convince herself she didn’t and wouldn’t really care for what came after her deception was laid bare.

A cold hand gripped at her collar, forcing her eyes onto glacial blue. From that close, Katarina could see the ever-so-faint glow to their edges, as though imbued with the same magic that her bow was. _How did I not notice this before?_

“ _Walk_ me back.” It didn’t so much sound like a request as it did an order.

The assassin could not, for the life of her, figure out why she obeyed, why she carefully took her wrist and led her towards the back exit, slipping from the shadows within to the shadows outside.

…

Even half-drunk, Katarina could manoeuvre her way around the Institute without being seen. The pair made it to the champion dorms in silence, all the way to Ashe’s door, where the assassin had to struggle against her common sense to loosen her grip on the queen’s wrist. _Let her go._

Ashe slid her key card in on the third try and the lock opened –everything Katarina wanted was just past the threshold, ripe for her taking. In more ways than one.

The archer walked in, lacking her usual grace but removing her earrings with sensuality to make up for it, throwing them onto the nearest table. The redhead felt something hot and insistent roll down her stomach.

Ashe turned to look at her, leaning against one of the crystal-like columns on her four-poster, queen-sized bed. “You can get in or you can get out.” She said, words slurred sexily.

Katarina _shunpo‘ed_ right in front of her face, pressing her further back into the column, green eyes turning black with hunger. The door shut behind her, leaving them in darkness, save for the few crystals glowing softly around the room. “Do you want me to take advantage of you that badly?”

Ashe’s reply was a torn, molten look, half aroused and half pained, half pleading and half commanding. “Maybe I do.”

And that broke any self-control the redhead may have managed up to that point. Katarina had never been known for her restraint around pretty girls, anyways.

In a heartbeat her lips were sealed over soft chilled ones, hands already roaming under that damningly tight shirt that Katarina had wanted to rip _off_ of her since she first laid eyes on it. Ashe made a small mewling noise in the back of her throat.

The assassin hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to feel that _good_. She was just drunk enough to silence the alarms across her nerves signalling that this was the queen of Freljord she was making out with and it was bound to end horribly.

Then Ashe’s hands were pushing her jacket off her shoulders, while the archer welcomed her tongue in her mouth, her hand on her breast.

“I want you.” The queen breathed against her lips in a throaty whisper.

Katarina’s brain shut down entirely at the admission.

She was vaguely aware of moving them, pushing Ashe down into the mattress by her neck. The same neck she proceeded to suck and bite marks on, while her hands made quick work of both of their clothes.

Ashe openly threw her head back and allowed her access everywhere, more than eager to push the redhead’s free hand further down between them.

At the first brush of Katarina’s fingers over wet heat, both of them gasped. Ashe gripped her hair tightly. The redhead didn’t give her time to adjust as she doubled down on her efforts, pushing up and _in_ , losing herself in the urgency and the scent and every single sound that fell like a prayer off the gorgeous woman’s lips.

“Oh fuck– _Katarina_. More, please.” The second Ashe started calling out her name like _that_ , her body taut like a bowstring waiting to be released, Katarina felt the dam on her emotions break. It was too much; too much thirst, too much pleasure, too raw a desire –and she wanted to break Ashe in return, for making her experience something like that.

Katarina _wanted_ her, so very selfishly, her attention and her pretty smiles and the way she warmed under her –and she _didn’t_ want to want those things. Things she couldn't _have_.

The assassin pounded her into the bed so hard the frame shook, until Ashe couldn’t take it anymore and locked up completely with a deep moan, her lips parted by Katarina’s ear and nails sunk into her bare shoulders. She collapsed back onto the bed breathing heavily, eyes closed, the tension she always kept about her leaving her form. Katarina barely had to touch herself to get off after that.

Ashe looked so soft, satisfied and sleepy when she opened her eyes. Gentle hands came around Katarina’s toned bicep and shoulders, fluid like water, pulling her in without applying any pressure. “Stay.” she said quietly.

_What is this?_

With the buzz in her head and the adrenaline dying down, Katarina felt tired and for the first time in years, relaxed enough to drop her head onto the pillow next to Ashe’s. She wasn’t certain what magic the archer was weaving with her fingers at the base of her neck but she couldn’t lie convincingly enough that she didn’t like it.

_What is going on?_

Part of her began to panic, but her body was already starting to shut down at the ministrations.

…

Katarina’s eyes blinked open an indefinite amount of time later.

The digital clock at the bedside table read a quarter to four. In the brief moment her sleep-addled senses took to register her surroundings, she became aware of another’s presence in her bed. Turning to her side, her eyes fell onto a flawless marble back, locks of white hair spilled like snow over a grey pillow. A slender neck bearing deep bitemarks. The memories from a few hours prior rushed back to her all at once.

_Shit!_

Katarina nearly jumped out of bed. She kept repeating the word like a mantra in her mind while she dashed around the space like a shadow, collecting her clothes from the floor.

As soon as she was dressed, the assassin moved across the room scanning every piece of paper in sight.

It was less than ten minutes of searching later that she found what she was looking for. A letter from the very man Katarina was tasked to hunt down, addressed to both Ashe and Tryndamere.

_“I cannot begin to describe the kindness you have shown me and my family. I wish I was half as worthy of it, but I can only be thankful. I wish I could turn back time and do better by you, both of you. I leave for Bilgewater at four in the morning, where my enemies won’t find me. Forgive me for this secrecy still; I give you my word it won’t harm either of you or your kingdom. May Freljord forever prosper under your united rule –Reed.”_

Katarina’s eyes turned sharp and cutting as they fell back to the clock.

She allowed the letter to drop from her hands, using her _shunpo_ to flash to the door. With her hand on the handle, she gazed upon Ashe’s sleeping form one last time.

An assassin had no use for regret, so she banished it.

Then, she was gone. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and wonderful reviews! I had a hard time figuring out if I wanted this chapter from Katarina's pov or Ashe's, but I chose to focus more on the way our fav queen perceives the world and Kat, a hint to what shaped her into being who she is, rather than the Du Couteau's long and bloody history. A lot of things about Katarina's family will be cleared up in later chapters. Stay awesome and enjoy :)

**[Ashe]**

Blue eyes slowly blinked open at the softest click coming from the door.

Ashe had always been a light sleeper, even more so after her coronation. A queen was never truly safe, not even in her own bedchambers inside Freljord’s most guarded palace –it had been a chilling realization, the day she had woken up with a hooded man holding a knife over her head. Sometimes, it felt like she never truly got a rest, merely fell into a deep meditative state, keeping one eye open even in the dead of night.

Ashe’s temples gave a violent protest to the previous night’s drinks. Flares of panic rose up milliseconds later at the memories rushing back in, of a toned body pinning her down, green eyes turning into pools of black, hands she shouldn’t welcome around her neck making her grow unreasonably hot. Her chest started to burn with embarrassment. At the same time, her body gave an entirely shameless reaction to the mental images.

Everything would be so much easier if Ashe could convincingly claim she hadn’t wanted it to happen. If only she could lie to herself that she wasn’t fatally attracted to the smirks and the green of the assassin’s eyes and the way she talked when cameras, generals and kingdoms weren’t involved.

 _Oh, gods. What would your people think._ The archer brought a hand over her face as though to hide from an imaginary crowd. _What if someone saw us leave together? What if they put two and two…?_

 _…What if_ she _uses this against me?_

Somehow, that thought choked the air out of her. Her head throbbed harder in response, forcing a harsh stop to the vortex of worries.

 _Why did she leave?_ Then again, Ashe couldn’t say why she had wanted Katarina to stay. She certainly hadn’t expected her to.

Gradually, the archer pulled her sore hips into a sitting position. Eyes absently scanning the room for a moment, her gaze fell onto a crumpled paper sitting abandoned on the floor.

Ashe carefully rose and approached it, lines forming on her forehead as she leaned down to pick it up. It was the letter from Reed, thanking Tryndamere and her for shielding him from his enemies.

_But why would Katarina–_

And that was when it dawned on her.

Like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over her head during a blizzard. Except the storm broke out on the inside of Ashe’s frozen frame.

It would be naïve to think there weren’t spies of Noxus in her court. After all, there were Freljordian ‘diplomats’ within Noxus or any other kingdom. It was standard, mandatory, to keep a close eye on potential threats and allies alike. But she had known Reed’s family since she was a teenager. Despite the debt they once owed other nobles, a point of constant scorn and criticism for their name, they had always been loyal, _trusted_. To think a person she had considered a friend would be selling the ins and outs of her land for years…

It was Ashe’s turn to crumple the letter. _Of course_ , she thought coldly. _‘I wish I was half as worthy of your protection’_ he had written _. ‘I wish I could do better by you’._

The archer had never thought pictures could be deafening before, but the one forming in her mind’s eye, clear and terrible, could not be described as anything else. The enemies Reed had sought protection from were none other than the Du Couteaus. It all made sense, too much sense, the uncanny timing of the assassin seeking her out days after he was moved into League grounds. The only reason Katarina ever cared to approach her, flash the charm full force around her, _see_ her, was because she wanted to get to him. And like a fool, Ashe _let_ her.

Welcomed her.

Wanted her.

 _Is anything real?_ She wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry. The letter froze over and cracked under her fingers until it fell into pieces on the floor.

One thing _was_ real however; Katarina was going to find Reed and kill him.

Or she would, if Ashe didn’t stop her.

…

Tryndamere would argue that he deserved it.

As many drinks as the two men had shared, betrayal was one thing that the king would never forgive. Especially from someone in their inner circle, who had been by their side since their wedding day. And Ashe couldn’t argue with that logic; she certainly couldn’t find forgiveness in her heart, either, now pumping frost instead of blood throughout her veins because of him. Because of Katarina.

Yet.

She knew his wife and his two children. She knew he was a good father just from the way his eyes lit up every time he talked about them and above all she _knew_ what it was like to grow up without one. Ashe wasn’t about to let more innocent souls grieve the loss of a parent for someone else’s bloody vendetta.

Or for a callous leader’s selfish desire to prove their claim to _power_.

_Long after the rest of the Tribe had left to find shelter from the snowstorm, Ashe still stood over the makeshift grave, marked by a warrior’s sword nailed within the ice. Although chipped from endless combat, the blade yet held a faint glow, as if to reassure her that the spirit of its wielder found its place among the heroes in the afterlife._

_Or perhaps that was merely what Ashe wanted to believe. But the thought brought her comfort, so she chose not to question it. Teal eyes blinked through the onslaught of falling snow, tears dropping and freezing halfway to the ground. The landscape was quickly turning white._

_The Tribe feared the storm, and Ashe could understand why, but she couldn’t help but see a certain beauty to the rapidly swirling flakes. Covering, steadily, all signs of war and bloodshed, until only purity remained._

Peace _._

_What did that feel like, she wondered. Ever since she could remember herself, there had always been war. Day after day, for years without end. So many lives, lost. So many children orphaned. Why did those people have to die? For her mother’s endless quest for power? Even if she conquered all the other Tribes, even if she found that cursed Bow of Avarosa she had been so obsessed with, what would that leave her with?_

_A pile of bones underneath her throne._

_Ashe set her jaw and clenched her hand so tight the wound there reopened, casting red droplets onto the snow, quick to be buried underneath it._

_“Father.” she said. “I won’t be like that.” A vow that would remain with her until her last breath. “I won’t have others bleed for me. If anyone’s blood should be spilled, it will be mine, first.”_

_A bird’s cry echoed in the far distance, or perhaps merely the wind howling in strange ways._

_Ashe could have sworn then she saw crystalline wings bat in the angry skies, against the storm._

Anivia’s shadow descended upon the grass outside the champion dorms, shaking the archer out of the memory. The massive guardian touched down softly, standing before her. “Queen Ashe. You have called?”

“Anivia, I always hate to ask this of you, but–”

“Then do not ask.” The hawk lowered a wing to her feet, to be used as a staircase. “Simply tell me where.”

“The harbor of Zaun. Fly _fast_.” Ashe gripped the ice shards on Anivia’s back for dear life, not at all looking forward to what was coming next. The Cryophoenix opened the span of her wings and kicked off the ground in a powerful bat. Pale arms clung to the frosted neck tighter, as two sets of teal hawk-eyes scanned the earth below. Past the mountain upon which the League stood proud and golden, over the small villages beneath, bathed in their dozens of night lights, and to the silent, seaside city of Zaun.

…

Although way past the very outskirts of Noxus, it was clear Zaun had been affected by the kingdom in design, sporting a dark palette, dim lights. Fitting, for a city known to be home to thieves and outlaws. The harbor did not look at all welcoming, either, with its menacing silence and stark floodlights facing the sea, leaving everything at the pier shrouded in complete darkness.

As soon as the pair was close enough, Ashe tapped the guardian on the back, who took the cue to land discreetly behind an abandoned-looking park filled with old oak trees. The queen could sense Anivia’s worry in her gaze as she dismounted, but she nodded for her to go. Ever loyal, the Cryophoenix did so without a word, without a single question. Although Ashe could guess she wouldn’t fly far.

Moving forward by herself, the archer kept her bow drawn and an arrow at the ready. Summoning the ancient magic within the weapon, she commanded its echoes into a miniature wispy hawk, giving it the order to “ _Seek_.” The ghostly creature took off ahead, leaving a thin white trail for her to follow.

It didn’t take long for it to find its mark, just behind the threshold of a wooden worn-looking warehouse, where it opened its wings and dissipated into chilly air. Ashe pressed her back to the wall, listening in to the darkness within.

_Smack._

A gurgled sound followed the wet hit, which Ashe realized could only be from blood. The sound of a man being literally beaten to death. She clenched her jaw tight.

“Tell me what I want to know.” Katarina’s voice sent chills down her spine for the very first time, none of them in a good way. She sounded off, distorted… stripped of emotion. “You can die when you have repaid the debt you owe my family.” A deeper hit. More splatters on the ground. “No sooner.”

“I have… repaid that debt… a thousand times over. From your father, to your sister.” Reed gritted out as though barely holding his body together. “You can go ahead –break all my bones. Some names in this world must never be uttered.” He coughed. “I know that now.”

The shriek of a sword being drawn from its sheath echoed throughout the decrepit room. One slash followed. One scream. Ashe, sickened, readied her arrow. Aimed it at the redhead’s back through the cracks of the wall. She could not stomach the thought the torturer in front of her was the same woman she let into her bed mere _hours_ ago.

“Tell me what my sister sent you to find!” she yelled, voice scratching.

“She… didn’t tell you anything, did she.” An odd sound between a wail and a chuckle escaped Reed. “After an anonymous lead Cassiopeia got, I was to find a trail gone cold for years.” A pause. “Sixteen, to be exact.”

Ashe witnessed Katarina stagger back as though she’d been physically hit.

Her back tensed like she was going into shock, like she was being electrocuted with a thousand volts per second.

The sword clattered onto the ground.

Then–

Katarina gripped the man off the rubble he’d been thrown against, delivering hit after deadly hit. “Who!” she screamed. “Tell me their name!” More devastating blows. “Who poisoned my _mother_!”

Ashe recognized that look in her eyes. She’d seen it before. It shouldn’t break her heart as much as it did, yet it still felt like cracks were forming despite her best efforts. Changing her target, she pivoted around to the threshold and let the arrow fly.

The dagger Katarina had drawn over Reed flew clean off her hand without even scratching her. Frenzied green eyes looked up at her like a starving beast in its lair, interrupted during a meal.

“Ashe.” she said. “How nice of you to show.” The assassin stepped on his wound. Reed cried out. “You know, you should thank me for killing this piece of shit. You have gone through so much trouble to protect him. And what has this parasite been living off of all these years? My family’s money and your kindness.”

Ashe stared Katarina down, unwavering, another arrow already drawn. Certainly, it was easy to push all the blame to other people, but the archer believed she held her own portion of it. Lost between the crown suddenly weighing unbearably atop her head and her political marriage to Tryndamere, she never once wondered how Reed’s family recovered from their debts. “Then he is mine to deal with.” she said coldly. “Let him _go_.”

“You can shoot me through the damn eye, see if I give a _fuck_.” Katarina spit out, gripping his neck tightly. “But first he will tell me the name of the man I am going to kill before _all_ of Noxus.”

“You have… no clue what you are up against.” Reed choked, his face swollen from the assault. “He will kill my family… and then he will kill what’s left of yours.”

To anyone else, Katarina’s hateful expression may have looked like just that, pure rage. Intense killing intent. A boiling desire to draw blood. To Ashe, however, her real emotions had always reflected in the green of her eyes.

In that moment, she was _torn_.

Torn in _half_ at the mere thought of losing her family. 

And despite everything, despite the hurt and the anger Ashe felt, this was one thing she found she couldn’t continue to see.

She realized something, then. Katarina wasn’t trapped in the sense that she was, not between power and responsibility, but she was trapped nonetheless by her own demons. Held captive by something –perhaps many things– she couldn’t let go of, because it could never let go of her. Scarred by the death of one parent, in a war others started, much like Ashe was, only cultivated into being the exact opposite.

What she herself could have been.

“Reed.” she spoke. Ordered. “Tell her.” Two pairs of shocked eyes looked up at her. Ashe took the weight of the decision onto her person, as a queen should. The weight of the outcome and that of his family’s protection from this new threat. “Tell her.” she repeated.

Reed closed his eyes and tears leaked for the first time. He hung his head, in shame or defeat or both, and uttered a single name. “Zeke, the forsaken.” He said. Katarina dropped him, her eyes going wide. “Yes. Your father’s most brilliant pupil.”

“It can’t –it can’t be.” Katarina shook her head. “He’s _dead_ –”

“No. He is not.” Reed pulled himself back, creating some distance while trying to stand. “He found me after I found out about him. His exact words were: ‘whoever tries to dig into the past will be buried by it’. He will know I told you, Katarina. From now on, we are both alive on borrowed time.”

“Shut _up_!” she snapped, advancing towards him, but Ashe got between them first, grip hardening on her lowered bow.

“Go outside, at the park northeast of here and call out for Anivia.” Ashe said over her shoulder. Reed did not need to be told twice as he quickly began to limp away.

Katarina’s muscles coiled like they usually did just before she activated her _shunpo_ step. Ashe pressed a hand to her chest, freezing the area enough to lock her in place.

…

They stared spitefully at each other.

Then, Katarina’s lips briefly morphed into one of her cruelest smirks. The type Ashe had never been fond of. “Let me tell you a little secret about me, since you seem so interested.” she began. “Anything that comes between me and my targets _dies_.”

“Yes? You’re going to kill me, Katarina?” Ashe asked, disbelief bordering on challenge.

“You doubt it?” The assassin’s lip curled into a half sneer. “What, just because I took you to bed you think I developed some sort of feelings for you?” The casual way she said it, like the notion itself was laughable, had Ashe’s nerves shooting momentarily out of control.

Before she knew it, her palm was snapping against Katarina’s cheek.

The cold added to the impact turned the area a faint red hue. The assassin didn’t immediately turn to face her, but there was a raging _storm_ in her eyes when she did.

“What did you think was going to happen, exactly?!” Katarina snapped. “What else could someone like _me_ want from someone like _you_!” Ashe felt cold hearing that. “Take a good hard look at me now that I’m not pretending to be something I’m not! Do you like what you see?”

And Ashe didn’t.

But.

“ _This_ is what I am! I’m an asshole. I fuck girls just because I can and I could just as easily murder them once I’ve taken what I want. I’m a _killer_. I’ve killed people since I was _twelve_ –do you have any idea how many?” Katarina went on, almost as if she was trying to make Ashe hit her again. “Innocents, young and old, _children_. I’ve laid waste to entire clans when it was asked of me! You think I ever gave a fuck?”

“Yes.” Ashe said with startling certainty, staring directly into her eyes. Katarina’s jaw clamped shut.

“Well… you’re wrong.” she denied, but if the archer really was, she wouldn’t be deflating and pulling away like that.

Ashe reached forward and gripped her collar tight, bringing her in so they were close. “But if you think that is who you are, maybe _you_ should take a second look at you.” Katarina looked at her. Looked away. They stayed like that for a few seconds, neither drawing back or moving a muscle.

Then, “Your bird’s flown off, let me take you back.” the assassin said quietly.

Ashe followed wordlessly outside, past a pitch-dark alleyway and to a sleek black motorcycle decorated with fancy red details.

Katarina’s whole demeanor had changed since earlier, not the charming idol of the League or Noxus’ bloodthirsty Sinister Blade, or even the arrogant playgirl that was a mix of the other two. She seemed alone, like that night in the club all over again, with that unreadable expression on, like she didn’t even know herself _what_ she should be feeling. She climbed onto her bike without a word, waiting for Ashe to settle in behind her.

The archer had too many things in her mind to worry about the fact she had never been on a motorcycle before, so she did what felt natural and wrapped her arms around Katarina’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. She wished it didn’t feel so easy to do that.

Then they were zooming off, leaving the city behind for vast fields, and Ashe let the tension gradually leak out of her and dissipate into the wind.

She hadn’t noticed they arrived until the engine turned off, or what the time was until crimson hair glowed with the first rays of the rising sun.

It had been a long night. Ashe couldn’t hide all of her fatigue as she rose from her seat. Katarina was leaning more heavily onto the black metal, as well.

“If there is something you want to tell me,” Ashe began, to which the redhead turned a little too fast, as though startled to hear the queen speak to her at all. “Tonight at eleven, I’ll be in my room. Otherwise, don’t speak to me again outside the Fields.”

And she hated to revert back to it, her ‘queen’ tone, her safety net, but she wasn’t exactly certain who the person in front of her was anymore.

She was, however, certain of what the assassin was _not_.

And if she let her, she would make Katarina see it, too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always read all your reviews and thank you guys so much for liking this story! This chapter is angst-heavy and our favorite assassin just needs a hug.

**[Katarina]**

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Three knives, three misses. A bit too far up, or too far left. They did stick to the surface, that time, but a seven-year-old Katarina could hardly consider that a victory. She grit her teeth, trying again, again,_ again _._

_It had been days since her father had taken the time to show her how to throw a knife. A rare occurrence, as he was always so busy between Noxian business and training his assassins. The attention had filled Katarina with pride, but she was, like always, given a limited amount of time to prove that she deserved it. Four days had already passed and she wasn’t getting any closer to the bullseye, not without a shit ton of luck._

_The young redhead was getting incredibly frustrated. She could not, for the life of her, figure out what she was doing_ wrong _. Her father had made it look so easy, as if the blade was merely an extension of his will. He had barely_ glanced _at the target to hit it dead in the center._

_She’d done exactly as he said, followed every step down to the last detail and yet–_

_The damn thing just_ wouldn’t _—_

_“That won’t work for you at all, I’m afraid.” Came a voice from the door._

_Katarina turned, a scowl etched on her features. “Zeke.” Father’s pride, trained under their House symbol since the murder of his parents, into one of Noxus’ deadliest blades. She’d always seen the man as an adversary, a rival. Someone to surpass._

_The times she wasn’t secretly admiring his many feats, that was._

_Zeke walked next to her, casting his shadow over her form. Katarina hated having to crane her neck up to look at him. “I’m doing everything_ right _.”_

_“I never said you weren’t. I said it wouldn’t work for you.” He replied with a cryptic smile. “You’re passionate. You don’t perceive the target the same way your father does. General Du Couteau teaches everything on the foundation of no emotion, a clear head. You aren’t like him, Katarina. You never will be.”_

_Never will be._

_Those words had her heart beating nearly out of her chest. Who did he think he—_

_“And that’s okay.” Zeke smiled. “I could never throw the knife that way, either.” The man pulled out his own blades, holding two between his fingers. He flung them directly at the center, as effortlessly as her father. And yet, there was something distinctly different about it. “We both put too much emotion into the throw. We want to use strength to_ control _it, instead of simply creating a path for it to flow. Here, this is how you do it.”_

_Katarina was fuming, but she let Zeke move her around, point out mistakes. By the end of the evening, her fingers were bleeding and sore, but every single knife hit the red ring, give or take a few millimetres._

_“This is good.” Zeke praised. “Well done.”_

_“It’s not perfect.” Katarina said, gripping a knife tighter between her red-stained hand._

_“Mine wasn’t either, on the first assessment. The general only said it has to be within the red mark.”_

_“But I will be better than you.” Katarina stated, green staring into honey-brown. “One day, you’ll be standing in my shadow.”_

_Zeke blinked. Grinned. “I can’t wait to know what defeat feels like.”_

Katarina banged her hand against the shower wall, the icy water doing nothing to calm her overpowering urge to kill. Anything. Anything, just to shut her brain off again the way she’d taught herself. Just so this broken, bleeding, useless thing in the middle of her chest would cease burning.

Out of everyone in the entire world she could have expected to want her family torn–

Why–

_Why!_

And yet. The truth had been staring her in the face the entire time, hadn’t it. There was nobody else with the skill to escape her father and all of his agents. There was nobody else who knew the intricate structure of their house, the exact location of the guards and the maids and how to bypass every barrier and security measure in place. There was nobody else who knew, among every arranged, political marriage in Noxus for status and power, how much her mother’s death would _break_ the general.

The only thing more agonizing for him would be to see either of his daughters dead, instead.

_Wait. Hadn’t Cassiopeia been just in the next room...?_

Katarina had been too young to remember, spent too long drinking and killing and burying the memory away, but piece by piece, the fragmented scene was starting to come back to her.

_A handmaid screaming in horror._

_Katarina, who had just descended the stairs to greet her father, dashing back up towards the sound. Little Cassiopeia coming out of the closest room, their eyes meeting for a split second in the hallway. And then–_

_Then she had looked forward._

_A mess of their mother’s study. Curls were spilled in a sea of brown across the cold polished floor, the woman’s body collapsed, unmoving, her lips parted in a sigh rather than a scream. Yet there was no breath there anymore, only a thin trail of blood seeping steadily from the corner of her mouth. Her gorgeous face unchanged, eyes shut as though sleeping, save for the black lines showing within her veins._

_“M-mommy?” Cassiopeia’s voice stuttered, as she took shaky steps towards the kneeling maid and their mother’s frame._

_Katarina stood frozen._

_Until her father’s shadow brushed her by, grabbing Cassiopeia’s outstretched hand and pushing her back into her._ _“Stay back. Stay_ back _!” It was the first time he had ever yelled like that. “Freya take my girls down!”_

_The petrified handmaid rushed to them and covered their eyes, ushering them towards the staircase. Katarina, numb, unable to comprehend what was happening, had looked one last time._

_The image of her father cradling her mother’s body to his chest, crying, was forever burned into her mind. A testament to how the mighty could_ shatter _._

_..._

She hadn’t been able to calm herself all morning. Katarina was physically exhausted but she couldn’t rest, filled with hate and nothing to channel it into, caught in an endless loop of memories that left her shaken and unstable.

A ticking time-bomb just waiting to explode.

The training room was mercifully empty when the assassin entered it, leaving her ever-vibrating phone behind with an entire column of messages and texts coming from Talon and Cassiopeia. She needed the damn device out of sight so she wouldn’t be tempted to answer, so she could try and find some semblance of peace the only way she knew how.

Through _pain_.

Katarina forced her limbs into familiar movements, twirls and angry slashes with her swords. When that wasn’t enough, she hit the training dummies with her own fists until they bled.

Sometime during her fiery assault, a familiar shadow loomed in the background.

“Get _out_.” Katarina spat, throwing her entire weight into her attacks.

“Make me.” Cassiopeia’s voice came, darkened. They both knew the assassin could barely even _move_ her after her transformation. Her tail was too thick, too heavy. Her skin too hard.

“This isn’t a good time.” Katarina grit her teeth, fighting against every ounce of her being to stay in control of her rage.

But Cassiopeia slithered right next to her, sending the bloodied training dummy crashing into the far wall with a powerful flick of her tail, where it splintered from the force. Everything about her had always commanded attention. In that moment, in a way truly ominous. She stood with her slitted eyes piercing Katarina’s profile through, waiting there as if she was _owed_ an explanation.

“Cassiopeia–”

“Don’t ‘Cassiopeia’ me.” her words _cut_. “Explain why the _hell_ my sources report Reed is not only very much alive, but right here with the rest of his traitorous little family, guarded every single hour by _Anivia_.” Katarina’s jaw clenched hard. “Why you haven’t reported to me yet –why you _failed_!” she snapped at the last word–

And so did Katarina.

Coming face to face in a flash, two pairs of green eyes locked in deadly combat. The redhead’s body buzzed from the adrenaline and the sheer rage, while poison worked its way up Cassiopeia’s system.

“ _You_ have everything to explain to _me_ and you better fucking hope I believe you!” she hissed. “You got an anonymous lead about our mother’s murder and you didn’t tell me a damn thing? You sent that motherfucker to investigate and then me to kill him when he ran away, scared shitless? Who do you think I am, one of your fucking agents?!”

“I _think,_ you would have reacted the same way you do now.” Cassiopeia said back. “All eyes are always on you and you can’t _stand_ that. You would have slipped and compromised everything to the Elite. And this time, I can’t risk that.”

“Of course.” Katarina felt the blood go straight to her head. “You’re always right. You know people so well. So, you know I’m not telling you crap. Because at this point, I have grown tired of your secrets and your half-truths and your _shit_!” her voice steadily rose to a roaring shout, echoing across the entire chamber.

Then–

Cassiopeia’s claws were around her throat, shoving her onto the nearest wall. Katarina felt the air leave her lungs from the impact. Her own hand reflexively wrapped around her sister’s neck with all her strength.

“They would have ripped you to shreds without _my_ shit!” she roared back. The nobles were just waiting for Katarina to show weakness so they could tear at the Du Couteau name. It was Cassiopeia’s blackmailing and all the information she held on them that kept them in check. “I don’t need your recognition or your pity now that I’m like this! But the one thing I _do_ need from you, you _will_ give me!”

“Stop!” Talon’s voice came from the threshold. “ _Stop!_ ” he nearly screamed. Katarina hadn’t realized the source of his panic until she saw the light begin to spill from Cassiopeia’s eyes–

And she was powerless to look away—

But the younger sibling suddenly averted her face and shut her eyes, dropping her in favor of covering them with both hands. The end of her tail thrashed. Katarina had to _shunpo_ out of the way to safety. Talon immediately jumped in front of her as if to protect her, but from who?

_Cassiopeia?_

Katarina felt like she was slapped for the second time that day.

Cassiopeia was pressing her palms to her eyes tightly, her whole body shaking from the unshed power –she was in _pain_.

“Stay back!” she shouted at Talon. “I’m— I’m not in control, get _out_ of here!”

 _‘Stay back!’_ An all too familiar scene flashed to the forefront of Katarina’s mind.

She still couldn’t do anything but be dragged away, as Talon dashed outside and took her along.

He didn’t stop until they crossed the entire hallway, where Katarina shrugged out of his hold. Talon turned to regard her with torn eyes under his hood.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Katarina half-warned and half-requested.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked.

“You should ask what’s right.” she replied, keeping her back pressed to the nearest wall because it felt like the only steady thing around her, right then. The back of her eyes was beginning to sting. “It was Zeke who poisoned my mother.” she said quietly, not trusting her voice.

Talon’s eyes widened. He took a step back. “Wait –the legend? But he—”

“It was Zeke.” Katarina repeated.

Of course, Talon would know who he was. The man had long since been proclaimed dead by the time he came into the family, but his ghost haunted their step-brother for all the years to come. Talon was talented enough to carry their last name as a protector of the general’s two daughters, but he hadn’t been the intended guardian. Zeke had been the one.

It was obvious, the comparison in their father’s eyes. It always had been.

And although it wasn’t the least bit fair, Talon a self-taught thief at the age of twelve yet skilled enough to leave bodies in his wake, compared to an assassin trained by the best of the best since he was a boy, such was the harsh way of Noxus. Only ability mattered in the end.

Even after one’s death, it seemed.

“I thought, after his family was murdered, your father took him in and trained him.” ‘ _like me’_ , was left unsaid. “This makes no sense, why would–”

“I don’t know.” Katarina said, cutting him off. She couldn’t think about this anymore. She couldn’t breathe while thinking about this. “I don’t want to know. I just want him _dead_.”

When she began to walk away, Talon didn’t stop her. He stood there, rigid under his cloak, the shadow of shadows now swallowed whole by them.

…

The horizon had long since dimmed to dark blue.

The creeping darkness found Katarina on her bed, earphones blaring music into her ears that did nothing to ease her nerves. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel any shittier than she did that morning, but there she was, at a record new low. 

Green eyes kept glancing at the time.

Ten minutes to eleven, her smartphone screen reminded.

Not that she had anything to do or anywhere to be, because she had already purged that thought from her mind. She simply waited for the blasted minutes to tick by so she wouldn’t be tempted by possibilities. Hell, she wanted that entire day over as fast as possible. But every time she checked, the numbers seemed to change so slow it was painful. Ten minutes had never felt that long before.

Until finally –eleven o’ clock.

The assassin took out her earphones, turned on her side and closed her eyes.

White hair and cool lips danced at the forefront of her mind. _Dammit._ She pressed her face into the pillow harder. She wasn’t going. She already banged the prettiest woman in the world and she could gloat to herself about it for the rest of her life. There was nothing else for her to want from Ashe.

_“Don’t speak to me again outside the Fields.”_

Big deal. They already didn’t talk outside the damn forest.

Eleven past ten.

_Dammit!_

Katarina punched the pillow for good measure and opened her bedroom window. She looked left and right outside. The coast seemed clear. In one swift move, the assassin began her descent. Blending in with the shadows, she made her way over to Freljord’s wing and pinpointed Ashe’s window. No tree was tall enough to get her all the way up there, but the assassin was nothing if not resourceful.

Finally at the top, Katarina tapped the glass a few times and waited. Through the curtains, she could see a lithe shape standing in the middle of the room slowly turn around. In cautious movements, Ashe pulled the blue fabric to the sides and –let out a deep huff upon seeing her. She opened her windows.

“ _What_.” Katarina asked irritably in a hushed voice. “You said eleven.”

“It’s eleven past twenty and I have a _door_.” Ashe motioned.

“It’s too suspicious for me to be seen outside it.” Katarina said, slipping inside smoothly.

“Because this is not at _all_ suspicious.” She said, locking the windows once more and turning to face her. Their distance was considerable. Katarina leaned against the back of the couch, feeling entirely out of place. Ashe didn’t regard her with the same ice as she had back in Zaun, but it was no mistake this was the queen of Freljord who stood in front of her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” she began, looking at a random spot instead of Ashe. “And I’m not even sure why I’m here.” she admitted. “But. Remember when you asked me if I was alright?”

The archer nodded, walking the slightest bit closer.

“I’m not alright.” Katarina dug her nails into her biceps. There was no logical explanation why she would ever say such a thing out loud, to someone she barely had reason to trust. She said it, anyway.

She felt Ashe move. And then, cool arms wrapped around her neck, keeping her in a loose embrace. One she could break out of any moment if she wanted.

It didn’t even cross her mind.

Katarina didn’t know what to do, she wasn’t used to holding people for reasons other than to have them scream in rapture or terror. It felt strange, though admittedly not in a bad way. She kept her hands braced on the couch.

“Have you slept at all?” Ashe’s voice came quietly by her ear, calm and soothing. The redhead focused on the sound, on her scent.

“No.”

“Come here.” Long fingers wrapped around her wrist, guiding her onto the cushions. The archer sat close, practically against her, taking the remote and browsing through the movies available on her large plasma screen. She paused on the first option, looking up at Katarina.

The assassin only had to look about one second at the description to say “No.”

“How about this one?” she asked, bringing up a whole romantic series that seemed more gag-worthy than the first movie. Katarina even knew that one well, because Cassiopeia watched that crap years ago, and the redhead wanted to stab herself with her own knives every five scenes she happened upon.

“I’d rather die.” The assassin deadpanned.

Ashe gave a beautiful laugh, but much to Katarina’s horror pressed ‘play’ anyway, on the third episode of the second season. “Well, that’s cute you think that will stop me, because I’m watching this anyway.” she said lightly. “Besides, I’m still angry at you.”

The assassin pressed her hand to her face. “I regret everything.”

Katarina lowered her cheek onto the back of the couch, relatively close to Ashe’s shoulder without touching her, absently looking at the screen. There wasn’t nearly enough blood to keep her interested, yet she still somehow felt better –lighter, relaxed. Ashe’s body gave off that steady, faint chill her own had come to greatly appreciate. Her mind was blissfully empty, senses entirely attuned to her company.

It was… strange. She had never sat this close to anyone before without the intention of fucking them senseless. It should be boring, lacking in any excitement if pleasure wasn’t involved, yet oddly enough it wasn’t, and she was loath to admit she even liked it.

At some point, Katarina felt her eyelids droop. It was her cue to pull away, to which Ashe turned and pressed a soft hand to her shoulder. “You can stay.” she said.

The redhead shook her head. “I better not.” She tiredly made her way over to the window, the archer closely behind to see her off.

A gentle hand curled around her bicep. Cold lips pressed to her cheek. Katarina lingered for a moment, as did Ashe, until the queen whispered “Goodnight.” with a small, private smile that held all the beauty of Freljord combined.

When Katarina made her way to her bed, she barely had the strength to shrug off her jacket before she collapsed. She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow, feeling a comforting chill in the back of her mind, even through her nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

**[Ashe]**

Red was a color Ashe had come to hate from her early years.

It was the tint associated with the fire that burned after one Tribe conquered another, the hue that was left behind after the howls of battle ceased and only bodies remained.

The color of blood.

First her father’s blood. Then her mother’s, her entire Tribe’s.

Ashe witnessed all three get ripped out of her life, the same way a beast would tear out the still-warm heart of yet another of its victims. That monster was war. Raging. Ever-hungry. And if one survived it? Then they would yet feel its claws sink deeper each breathing second, experiencing the loss in an endless loop, a constant void that would never again be filled.

She would know.

Some days were darker than others.

And that day in particular, when Ashe woke up from yet another nightmare and made the mistake of looking at the date displayed on her phone, was the blackest of all. It was the anniversary of the greatest pain she ever had to endure. The greatest loss.

_Carnage was all that remained on the battlefield, dislocated limbs, blades nailed into flesh, the faces of people she held dear now frozen in perpetual horror. All the while, the victors gloated over their dead bodies. Laughed. Rejoiced._

_“Oh, look, only the young princess left. A beauty unlike any, ain’t she?” A voice among the many had said. “We’ll have fun with you before you join your mother.” A sickening, squelching sound carried over to Ashe’s ears through the angry winds. Her mother’s collapsed form was pierced by another spear as if to make a point._

_The young archer’s body quaked._

_She had never felt this before –whatever it was that overpowered her will so completely, that made her want to reduce everything and everyone before her to_ dust _._

_A memory flashed through her mind’s eye, then, of her mother showing her what she had considered her greatest possession of the last years; the final map to Avarosa’s grave. According to it, the glacier was nearby, the very reason why Grena led them all to their deaths. Ashe grit her teeth and broke into a mad dash towards the location etched in her brain, hoping against hope for a place to hide._

_She ran until her legs were about to give out, as the wind’s howls grew louder, its icy touch freezing the lungs of her pursuers but never so much as hindering her own. The cold had never hurt her, for she had been birthed in it –Iceborn. A power she never thought much of, until that very moment._

_Ashe stumbled upon something unseen in the snow; before she knew it she was falling, down into dark depths._

_When she opened her eyes, her blonde hair was stained crimson._

_The archer felt faint. She wholly believed to be hallucinating the frozen throne in front of her, with the glimmering crystals and jewels all around, the magnificent bow that looked like it was made out of pure ice radiating an aura that called to her._

_Ashe rose on shaky legs and limped towards it. She could not believe the legends were true, after all. That her mother had not been chasing ghosts all her life. It felt –like relief. For a second._

_Then it felt like rage._

This _was what her people died for. This –_ thing _._

 _“Do you know what I’ve_ lost _?!” Ashe shouted at the weapon in the empty grave, her own voice coming back to her alien. Tears fell from her eyes and crashed on the floor. “Everything! I lost everything!”_

_Her grasp on reality felt like it was slipping. The bow stood there, glaring at her._

_Ashe reached forward and grasped it in her hand._

_Then –unfathomable power surged through her, drowning her tears and her pain until nothing remained. It turned the roaring fire of her anger into an echoing cold, imbued the blood in her veins with True Ice._

_Ashe felt like she was gazing through the eyes of someone else, as she made her way outside, through the blockade of wind and back to the Tribe still laughing over her grief._

_“Ah, she returns –!” the Warchief said, but something in his eyes ran cold at the sight of her._

_Ashe did not speak; merely raised her new bow, pulling the string to her cheek. An icy arrow sprung to life out of nothingness. Blue lines began to swirl before her eyes, until the glow became so intense the Tribe had to shield their faces._

_“_ Freeze _.” she spoke, a strange, hollow echo to her voice._

_The string was let free._

_When Ashe came to her senses, the whole area had been buried in ice._

_In shock, she dropped the cursed bow and collapsed upon her knees, staring at the reflection of a stranger. White hair, blue eyes glowing with ancient power glared back at her._

_The tears that dripped onto the frozen ground were so cold they burned right through._

Ashe brought a hand over her eyes while the other clutched desperately at her chest. The phantom pain of that day was always with her, just beneath her skin, and it always brought her to her knees the moments she wasn’t strong enough to seal it away. One would think the memory would stop haunting her after so many years, after all the battles she fought and all the people she spared for redemption. She lost hope that it ever would.

“Never again.” she told herself, told no one in the emptiness of her room, as she repressed the power humming in the depths of her essence further.

_Never again._

...

The Fields of Justice looked vastly different covered in frost.

An ice modifier. The universe itself seemed set to prolong Ashe’s torture. She barely glanced at her team or her support as she mindlessly bought the items her summoner chose and made her way to her lane. On the way there, the queen took a deep breath. Released it. Focused her mind. She would not push the weight of her burdens onto her partner.

_Everybody is watching. Focus._

But everybody always was.

Ashe held herself throughout the initial phase of the game as a queen should; locking her emotions somewhere deep within herself where they wouldn’t cause any problems. Things were quiet in her lane –until they weren’t.

The enemy jungler just _had_ to be Sejuani, and naturally the tension between the two of them manifested into the match, as it was bound to do. Ashe avoided the first gank, Janna died to save her at the second, but the other woman decided to come and _live_ around her part of the map and the archer felt her nerves strain. Any other day, it wouldn’t affect her as strongly.

“Oh, what’s wrong, Ashe? The Winter’s Claws too sharp for you?” Sejuani taunted, swinging her weapon. 

“No, they’re quite dull, actually.” she replied with faked ease.

“Yes? I wonder. Since your support is the only one who’s felt them in your stead.”

Ashe’s jaw clenched. Janna threw another tornado that narrowly missed. That boar was too darn mobile. “Don’t listen to her, Ashe.” the support spoke.

So it went until the thirty minute mark, jabs flying back and forth. Until a massive teamfight broke out in the middle lane and everybody rushed into it with all of their abilities, knowing it would decide the outcome of the game. The first swing of an axe missed the Frost Archer, who jumped back into safety. Then Malzahar’s minions leapt towards her from the nearby bushes, to which Janna once again shielded her at the cost of most of her life.

The enemy team had already lost their main source of damage by that point. The battle was theirs—

“So, is that your winning tactic?” Sejuani asked while retreating, the sight of her off her boar, the helmet knocked off her head, reminding Ashe of a younger version of the woman, a friend instead of an enemy.

_Why did things have to be this way…_

She drew her bow to unleash her ultimate. If she pinned Sejuani in place right there, someone else could finish her off and victory was guaranteed. It would be better for her image if she was the one to take the kill, but Ashe didn’t feel confident the dam on her emotions would hold if she did. If she saw another person dear to a past version of herself broken.

“What do you mean?”

“Always at the backrow, letting your team get slaughtered so you can gain all that power?” the other woman spat in a bitter sneer.

And time froze for Ashe.

Sejuani didn’t know, of course. She didn’t know the exact details of the slaughter of her Tribe. She couldn’t know exactly how _close_ to home that one hit. Suddenly, the queen found herself bombarded by images of dead friends and relatives –red pools all around, death and destruction and then a frozen tomb of her own making.

“Ashe ult! _Ult_!” someone from her team yelled, muted to her ears.

Her summoner fought for control, urging the ultimate despite her denial—

 _“A summoner has disconnected.”_ echoed across the Fields.

 _I’m sorry._ Ashe thought, turning away from her team as they wreaked havoc in the enemy base.

_I’m sorry…_

_..._

Naturally, whenever a disconnect occured, it was deemed the summoner’s mistake. Masters and Challengers were known to be able to uphold the connection despite the stain or resistance that may exist on the Champion’s side, after all, so it was the mage’s own fault when for whatever reason they couldn’t. Ashe however, was well aware it was nigh impossible to keep certain powers in check, no matter how handicapped they may be due to the League’s magic.

There was a reason Kayle was said to be near impossible to control, disconnecting Challengers with ease if they dared to cross her will. Kalista. Nocturne. Aurelion Sol. Xerath. Not that others couldn’t, but they were less likely to put their summoner on the spot.

True Ice was among those powers. A force so incomprehensible, few people could withstand a glance at it, let alone hope to tame it.

The media critisized her mage for a poor performance, while she was praised for her own. Ashe felt that, once again, someone took the blunt of the force for her.

The queen left the stage as fast as she was able, walking briskly towards her room. As soon as the door had locked behind her, she allowed her body to lean against it, releasing the breath she had been holding seemingly forever. _Keep yourself together._ She chastisized. _Queens don’t break, not even before their own reflection._

Except it very much felt like she was.

The stacks upon stacks of official papers on her desk were suffocating to even look at, the walls of her chambers too thick, the air suddenly too scarce. Ashe furiously stripped off her combat uniform in favor of normal clothes, leaving her bow and everything related to it in a far corner. She wanted to be outside, but she didn’t want to be in the League, where every single action recorded by a camera would have political implications.

No, she didn’t want to be _Queen_ Ashe. She needed to be just _Ashe_.

The problem was, she spent so long pretending to be someone else she forgot who that even _was_.

Until a certain assassin’s challenging jabs and drinking games gave her a glimpse. And even without her physical attraction to the insufferable redhead, she desperately longed for that feeling of freedom around her. Ashe unlocked her phone and paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. _What are you doing?_

Katarina’s contact was just beneath her hovering thumb. They hadn’t talked in the days after the assassin had come up to her room and Ashe didn’t even have a name for what they were, or what she wanted them to be. But she had come to her window when the archer hadn’t dared think she would and that alone meant that perhaps, _maybe_ …

Ashe tapped on the contact before she could backtrack.

 _“Ashe?”_ the assassin answered after a few rings. Just the way her name rolled off her lips made the queen momentarily forget about her troubles.

“Are you free?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

_“I am.”_

“Can we go somewhere? I don’t really care where, just… out of here.” Ashe found the words tumbling from her mouth without their usual practiced grace.

_“Can you be ready in ten?”_

“I’m ready now.”

The dark, hooded cloak around her shoulders made it hard to see as Ashe kept her head down and rushed to their arranged meeting spot. At a safe distance from the champion dorms, the night provided enough cover for her to raise her chin and breathe. The reds of Katarina’s bike and hair were visible under the shadow of a large oak.

Ashe greeted her with a touch on the shoulder, receiving a small nod in return before taking her seat behind her. The assassin’s body was radiating warmth, comforting, _alive_. She slowly dropped her head onto her shoulder, breathing the familiar scent of hundred-gold rose perfume and leather. Crimson hair tickled her cheek.

“Long day?” the assassin asked over her shoulder, turning the key. The bike roared to life. 

“You could say that.” she replied quietly.

“You’re going to have to hold on a little tighter than that.” the redhead said, a hint of amusement coloring her voice.

“Why?”

The Noxian answered with actions instead of words. One second they were perfectly still… and the next shooting like a bullet through the shortcut to the main gate. Ashe’s heart slammed to the back of her ribcage. Part of her regretted ever asking, the rest of her focused on keeping the assassin in a death hold for dear life.

Over the roaring wind, she felt, rather than heard, Katarina’s deep laugh.

…

Once the bike came to a stop, Ashe stole a moment to admire the scenery. They had parked just outside the village closest to the Institute, at the edge of the forest. From where they stood, its lights seemed like floating fireflies against the clear night sky. There was a stream close by, its steady flow reaching their ears in a deeply soothing sound.

Ashe was so at ease, she didn’t want to leave that spot. Wherever else they went, she would have to hide under a hood. Almost as if reading her mind, Katarina told her to wait there and _shunpo_ ’ed towards the village. A few minutes later, she was back with a bottle of alcohol in hand and a smirk on her face.

The two of them walked wordlessly near the stream for a while, close but never touching. Ashe wished she could find an excuse for a point of contact. She bit the inside of her cheek. Instead, she cast her gaze to the stars, glimmering in perfect harmony. If only the world below could be like them.

“You know,” she started. “In Freljord, every Tribe has different beliefs, but one in common, about the stars. It is said the souls of Warchiefs form constellations and the stars they consist of are the warriors who stood beside them in life.”

“Well.” Katarina began seriously. “That is a fuck ton of Warchiefs.” Ashe found a laugh bubble out of her and burst in the air. The assassin regarded her with a gleam in her eye. “Or they are spheres of plasma held together by their own gravity.”

Ashe rolled her eyes lightly. On a serious note, she continued, “Tale or not, I keep looking up at them and think of this single quote. ‘How is it they live for eons in such harmony - the billions of stars, when most men can barely go a minute without declaring war in their mind against someone they know.’ It feels like the poet and I are the only two people in Freljord who believe that, sometimes.”

She didn’t know what exactly it was that made her share her innermost thoughts with the assassin. Noxus’ views were vastly different, after all. It all probably sounded like the idealistic nonsense of a weakling, to the kingdom of darkness. Katarina was seemingly the perfect Noxian… and yet she didn’t look at her with scorn or judgement. She simply looked.

“Thomas Aquinas, right?” Katarina surprised her by saying. “I’ve raid some of his works.” Ashe didn’t school her expression to neutral fast enough. “This is the first time I see you appear utterly _shocked_.” she chuckled.

“You- you just didn’t strike me as the poetry type.” she stammered. _Very graceful Ashe, astounding job._

“I’m not. It makes me want to jump off a cliff, honestly.” she admitted, springing another smile to the queen’s lips. It was so easy for her to do that. “But I was tutored endless hours and it was sort-of inevitable. Not to mention the _massive_ collection of books my sister kept leaving in my room for some reason and–” Katarina cut herself off at the mention of Cassiopeia. “And… nevermind.” she said quietly.

“I don’t mean to pry but –I mean, it’s obvious you care so much for her yet you two always seem to be…” Ashe didn’t often struggle to find the right word. She was well aware, however, this was a delicate subject.

“At each other’s throats.” Katarina finished for her. Ashe could only give a small nod. “It wasn’t always this way. In fact, while most siblings in Noxus, at least in the noble families, practically want to kill each other for control over the family’s influence, Cassiopeia and I were always close.” she said, pausing a little as if considering if she should say more. “Very close. She was… my best friend.” Something in Katarina’s voice threatened to waver. She turned her gaze away, took a gulp of the drink to hide it.

“My best friends… Sejuani, Helena and I, we were inseparable. But destined to separate, it seems. All three of us from the three different factions that exist now. I… know how it feels.” To grow apart. For things to get in the way until one could barely recognize the person standing in front of them anymore. Ashe took the bottle from her, bringing it to her lips for a sip.

She still didn’t know what exactly happened to turn Sejuani’s grandmother against her Tribe so strongly. As for Helena… it was the exact opposite. Ashe knew too well what drove her back to her roots as a Frostguard. To the Ice Witch.

It was—

_My fault._

Katarina sat on a fallen log, her arms resting on her knees. The archer joined her side. If anyone had told her two months ago she would be sitting next to the Sinister Blade trusting her with things that could be used against her, she would have thought it a bad joke. Yet there they sat, and Ashe couldn’t help but notice more startling similarities between them.

Broken families. Shattered bonds whose splinters still caused deep cuts. Layers upon layers of pretend. 

Crushing loneliness.

Because of it, all it had really taken for Ashe to fall for her was being treated as a person, common, non-special, instead of getting placed on the usual pedestal of a queen. _You’re pathetic._ She thought bitterly at herself.

The conversation drifted to lighter subjects after that, the bottle getting passed between them until it was empty.

On the way back, although Katarina was driving at an acceptable speed, Ashe clung tightly as ever to her waist, keeping her cheek pressed to conditioner-scented crimson tresses.

 _Red._ She thought. It was the first time in her life she appreciated the color. The way pale moonlight brought out the vibrance of every individual strand. The way it stood stark against the black of her jacket.

The moment they arrived and Ashe dismounted, the hood secured around her head, she absently reached forward and wove her fingers through the red waterfall at the assassin’s nape. Katarina gazed up at her, the green of her eyes giving way to black. Ashe leaned down, pressing her lips to the other woman’s gently. A warm hand at her waist pulled her closer, as close as the barrier of the bike would allow.

Katarina’s tongue pressed to the seam of her lips and Ashe softly met it with her own, tightening her hold on the burgundy locks before letting go completely. Every fibre in her body burned, from her neck to her chest to places far lower.

“Thank you for tonight.” she whispered before stepping back. With one final trail of her fingers across the assassin’s chin, Ashe turned around and made for the dorms, feeling her heart do several flips on the way there.

From that night onward, it wasn’t blood or pain that came to mind at the sight of crimson red.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay guys but I was moving because of work and the last week was so very hectic for me I had zero time or peace of mind to sit and write. I appreciate your patience and thank you for all your kind words again and for sticking with this story :). Now, on to the chapter!

**[Cassiopeia]**

The night was dark with rainclouds. The humidity of Zaun’s pier clung like a second skin to marble flesh, sticking in tiny beads of water to vivid green scales. Wooden floorboards creaked under the weight of a hybrid body. The few lights of the city did nothing to illuminate her terrible form, which was for the better.

Zaun did not disappoint –a hellhole in the full sense of the word, just as Cassiopeia remembered it. A fitting place for monsters.

Sharp, slitted eyes checked left and right for any heat signature. Bats swatted their wings away from her location, sensing the danger even while unable to see it. A stray cat one alley away froze in her tracks, perking up at her general direction and breaking off into a mad sprint the opposite way. All life ran away from her, it seemed.

She should be used to it by that point.

Closing her eyelids, the serpentine woman deactivated her snake vision, opening them again to normal, albeit incredibly detailed, sight. Cassiopeia and her agent were well and truly alone, just how she liked her dealings. One could never be too safe with information.

The lone person there with her awaited patiently to be granted persmission to speak. The spymistress folded her arms and nodded. Deft hands immediately reached behind him, into a backpack clasped tightly to his form, retrieving several sets of documents.

“My Lady, everything you requested is here.”

Cassiopeia delicately took the papers and scanned over them lightning-fast. Everything the Noxian nobility would not ever want a light shined upon, scandals on top of under-the-table deals, in her hands to do as she pleased. A small, cutting smile curved the edge of her lip. “Good job. You will find your payment will be worth every bit of trouble to collect these.”

The agent’s eyes crinkled gratefully, though the rest of his visage remained unchanged. But then –his jaw worked, he paused in his breath just a moment longer. Cassiopeia sensed there was more he had to share with her.

“Speak your mind. Is there something I should know?” she asked.

“Remember when… you asked me to find out where Lady Katarina has been disappearing lately?”

Green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Yes… and?”

“Well –there is someone she has been seeing.” He produced a final picture, handing it to her without another word.

Cassiopeia felt a vein beat against her temple, her thin control on her talons and tail straining. Venom rose like bile up her throat. The image very clearly depicted Katarina’s bike with a slender woman cozily hovering over it and over her, her face too blurry to make out but tell-tale white locks spilling from under her dark hood. Fangs and teeth clicked together.

The noblewoman took a steadying breath. “Are you positive this is the only copy of this picture?”

“Of course.” He replied. Cassiopeia could easily tell he was speaking the truth.

“And tell me, how many people with white hair do you know within the Institute?”

The man began to sweat under her gaze. He fought to swallow, the sound all too audible to her superhuman senses. “N-not many, my Lady.”

 _Katarina, you fool._ Cassiopeia closed her eyes tightly, fighting down the nerves threatening to pulse out of her body. _You fool!_

When she opened them, deadly light spilled like an ancient curse from the depths of her pupils. The man’s horrified expression froze in time, preserved in hardened stone for eternity. She reached forward with her claws, pained, dropping the controlled mask from her features and letting it shatter on the floor. One little push and one of her best agents, or what was left of him, was swimming at the depths of a murky sea. An end so unbecoming of such talent.

This wasn’t how she usually repaid loyalty –but family came first.

People were too easily bought and sold, after all.

She couldn’t risk anybody – _anybody_ – so much as suspecting something that could ruin them all. Two kingdoms, one crown, their entire last name, which took generations to build, not to mention their very _lives_ now stood precariously balanced on a wobbling, delicate thread of Katarina’s own making, to snap at any moment and send them all to _hell_. 

Cassiopeia crushed the picture in her hand.

A sisterly talk was long overdue.

**[Katarina]**

Wet soil clung to spiked boots, casting an unessassary weight to each step. The whole forest –swamp by that point– was covered in a thin layer of water, up to one’s anckles, slowing movement considerably. It was one of _those_ modifiers. The ones that felt like they were made to draw out every single colorful word out of Katarina’s vocabulary.

 _Infuriating_.

The assassin climbed up a tree by the riverbed and perched up on a thick branch, while her summoner was too busy arguing with a teammate about lack of skill. From her perspective, it all stemmed from lack of a brain on both mages’ sides. No argument needed to determine that.

Huffing, the redhead adjusted her footing and waited. Her mind drifted off the match to her plans for the rest of the day, realizing that she didn’t really have any. Which prompted the question of what she _wanted_ to do. The answer to that was immediate; given by some deeper part of her that knew exactly what it wanted, in the form of white hair cascading down pale shoulders, pink lips she now knew for a fact were as impossibly soft as they appeared, eyes so uniquely blue they seemed otherworldly.

She could still recall the way they’d been that night, hooded and smokey like dark crystals—

A sharp ping ringing in her mind nearly made Katarina jump. Her muscles locked up to keep herself steady, a curse at the very tip of her tongue and ready to explode at whoever _dared_ to disturb her.

 _The fuck?!_ She pushed mentally against her summoner, who cowered in response, hiding behind every safety measure the summoning process held.

Then she noticed it, Lee Sin wounded and limping away towards his own jungle to recall safely. He must have passed straight underneath her as there was no other path he could take in that condition, and she just let him slip by, too occupied by thoughts of a certain someone to act in time.

Teeth ground together, a vein beating at her temple. Katarina stabbed the bark angrily as she was transported back to base. Then she took matters into her own hands and stabbed the entire enemy team with the same ferocity. Needless to say, they won that game.

…

The cafeteria was noisy as ever. Champions and summoners alike occupied every inch of the massive space, chatting amongst themselves over lunch while the previous day’s match-highlights, turned to a low, comfortable volume, played on the large plasma screens around the chamber.

Talon, seated opposite Katarina, was eyeing his well-cooked steak appreciatively. The assassin was working through her beloved fries in-between bouts of small talk.

And yet she felt –distracted.

Her mind just wasn’t _there_ , even as she replied and it was downright bothersome–

Until the corner of her gaze caught silky white locks. A pretty smile, a regal posture softening the slightest hint into something more relaxed as the object of her attention shifted in her seat over at her table, one creamy leg crossing over the other. Katarina averted her eyes but apparently not her focus, as the mere motion of Ashe wrapping her delicate fingers around the straw of her milkshake had a strangely queasy, uneasy feeling rolling down her neck.

_How is she always so—_

Blue eyes caught hers across the room.

_Beautiful._

Ashe made a point of tasting her drink, before she leaned back slightly. A pink tongue darted out to lick across a cotton-soft bottom lip. Katarina’s mouth burned in response. A small fire lit at the pit of her stomach.

“Are you listening?” Talon asked for what appeared to be the second time, finally diverting her attention.

“Yeah.”

“Lies. I nearly stole a fry to make you focus.” He shrugged, eye catching a certain fry at the edge of her plate–

“You wouldn’t dare.” She stated matter-of-factly. He smirked, feeling challenging. Years of living under the same roof should have taught him what happened to anyone who got between Katarina and her French fries.

Luckily for him, it didn’t come to blows, as a certain Freljordian queen stood to leave first and the assassin had already decided she was _not_ going to spend another day wanting and looking and never touching.

Five minutes later, she was excusing herself, her goal set and one small risk away from her reach.

…

It was a small mercy from the gods no champion happened to linger in the Piltover or Fleljord corridor, and Katarina could _shunpo_ right in front of Ashe’s door undetected. In her mind, she had already come up with several bullshit excuses in case anyone happened to be around.

Ashe barely had time to open the door before a flash of red pushed past her and invited itself in. “Katarina? What are you doing here at this hour?”

Up to that point, they had only met at night after taking every safety precaution imaginable. Currently it was noon and no, it wasn’t one of the redhead’s brightest ideas, but she had enough of resisting whatever it was that compelled her near Ashe. It seemed the more time apart they had to take from each other, the more distracted she got. It had gotten to the point of affecting her matches and that was _unacceptable_.

“Stop it.” Katarina demanded, sitting on the arm of the couch, arms crossed. She tried not to look at Ashe, expression open, skin _so_ inviting where her uniform didn’t cover –and failed.

“Excuse me?” the archer raised an elegant silver eyebrow.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it.” She repeated. “I can’t get you out of my head and it’s terribly annoying.”

Ashe paused for a moment. Katarina heard her light footsteps approach and then the queen was standing close, _too_ close, the familiar scent of lilies in winter floating around her. There was a slight, barely-visible red hue kissing her pale cheeks, an interesting mix of fondness and pride playing at her eyes and lips that made the assassin's heart beat faster without clear cause.

“So,” Ashe began, trailing her hands up to leather-clad shoulders. “You think about me, hm?” her lips tugged further at the corners. Katarina locked her jaw and placed her hands on her hips to push her _off_ , because this had never happened to her before and it _wasn’t_ okay.

She had initiated everything, with anyone she’d ever been with, and she had been fully in control at all times, even the night she pressed the queen of Freljord into her mattress and made her sing. It had felt different from her other mindless conquests, but not enough to ring alarms.

This— didn’t feel like she was in control anymore. She felt _weak_ and—

_Weakness isn’t allowed in Noxus._

“I think about you all the time, too.” Ashe breathed out against her lips and Katarina’s hands lost their will to apply force. She surged forward and locked her mouth to the archer’s tightly, tasting the chilly sweetness of vanilla on her tongue. The queen used her shoulders as leverage to pull herself up, straddling her thighs gracefully.

_Rather, weakness in Noxus will get you killed._

But as they broke apart for air and Katarina sucked a path down the archer’s neck, trembling as she was, she realized she was equally weak to stop. Ashe wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dug the nails of the other into her bicep, as though afraid she would disappear or prove to be another beautiful lie, like last time.

Fingers meant to wield knives instead of soft flesh slipped under a navy top to roam the expanse of cool smooth skin, rapidly warming under them. Katarina traced a hammering pulse with her tongue and sank her teeth into it, just barely keeping herself from leaving a mark. The sound Ashe made into her ear lit her stomach on _fire_ , burning her to cinders, as the archer gave an involuntary rock forward, nearly toppling them over. 

Katarina _wanted_ her and the fact that she could just _have_ her, Ashe, who was immaculate, powerful, a queen, who was beautiful, inside and out, sent thrill after thrill down her spine.

_Beep. Beeep._

_Fuck…_

A vibrating phone over her heart made Katarina pause. The two of them gathered their bearings before reluctantly separating from each other. The assassin didn’t even glance at the caller ID as she lifted the damn thing to her ear in a very irritated:

“ _Yes_.”

 _“Not happy to hear from me, sister?”_ Cassiopeia’s voice came from the other line, colder than usual.

“Cass—?”

 _“Well, no matter, because I’m not thrilled myself.”_ She said dangerously. The warmth in the assassin’s body suddenly turned to frost. _“Come to my room right now._ Don’t _be late.”_

Katarina lowered her phone. Stared at the screen of the ended call. Part of her was worried, another enraged. Another, held far behind the other two… hurt.

Green eyes shifted to blue. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Ashe said, so very calm despite the flush lingering on her neck, reaching a cool hand to brush her forearm. “Take care.”

Katarina darted down the Noxian corridor like the bullet of a killshot.

…

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, the door just barely closing behind her.

Cassiopeia pivoted on her tail, casting green glaciers at her. She wordlessly threw a crumpled paper between them. Katarina caught it in mid-air, teeth pressed together, the line of her jaw prominent as she wondered what kind of game her sister was playing then. But of course, that wasn’t the look the younger Du Couteau had in her eyes when she was.

If anything, it was that icy look that made Katarina go through the trouble to steel her nerves and unfold the damn thing. It was… a picture. Upon a closer look, it was a picture of her and—

“What the _fuck_ is this.”

“ _I_ should be the one asking you that.” Cassiopeia’s thin fangs showed under her upper lip.

“You have people spying on me now?” her hand shook. She was aware she needed to retreat before she did anything she’d regret for the rest of her years.

“I don’t need to waste my agents spying on you to confirm what I already know. I can smell her scent clinging to you from a _mile_ away!” Cassiopeia hissed. “Yet even _I_ have trouble accepting such a thing without concrete evidence! But how _could_ you!”

“I—” she was ready to yell, but was stopped by another barrage of accusations.

“You could have anyone! Look at any model or superstar or a _nobody_ and take your pick!” Cassiopeia opened her palms, claws and manicured nails alike springing to life. “But _no_. No, it had to be the queen of _Freljord_. And what do you think would happen to us if Swain or anybody from the Elite received this picture before me?” the younger sister came close, dropping her tone low. “I know I said I wanted to die, Katarina, and I still very much do, but not executed in the capital’s square while being declared a traitor to my kingdom along with Talon and you.”

Katarina’s rage distorted, shifted, gave way to something she didn’t need in the moment. Anger was a shield but shame… shame was poison seeping into her pores.

“It’s not like I chose to feel this way, you know.” Katarina said, her knuckles white at her sides.

“I know. But Noxus isn’t a place for feelings.” Cassiopeia said. “And she does not belong in the darkness with us. Her people come first. And your duty also comes first.”

It wasn’t that Katarina had never thought about it before. It was more that… she actively tried not to. The nightmare scenario in which Ashe would have to choose between her position and their budding… –whatever they were. The nightmare that she would have to choose between Noxus and Ashe.

 _Maybe this is my punishment?_ She thought. _For all the innocents that I’ve killed. Maybe I have a heart, after all, only to suffer for it._

A loud bang from the door had both sisters springing up.

Talon was there, sweating and out of breath as though he ran a marathon, an uncharacteristic panic to his eyes. “I just received an unknown call from someone–” he drew more air into his lungs. “He sent me the coordinates to the Grand Arena and said only ‘you bring yourselves, I’ll bring the shovel’. I don’t know what tech he’s using, I couldn’t trace his phone.”

Katarina’s breath petrified in her lungs.

 _‘Whoever tries to dig into the past will be buried by it.’_ Someone else’s message relayed through Reed flashed through her mind.

The three of them dashed to the arena so fast they might as well have teleported.

…

Demacia versus Ionia.

In a grand match like that, it made sense that the Institute’s most gigantic, glamorous arena would be used. The Du Couteaus opened the door to a dome as big as the sky, flashy lights and thousands upon thousands of cheering fans. Several champions were leaning by the railing of the upper floor, interested in the outcome of the game. Curious eyes fell on the trio, unused to seeing them move as a unit.

Katarina felt Cassiopeia tense up at her right side. A bead of sweat made its way down her temple. This could very easily turn _very_ bad. Sounds and smells overwhelmed her sister’s inhuman senses in most spaces, but in that moment they must have been pushing her control to its absolute bounds, driving her _crazy_.

Her hand shook. Katarina grabbed her wrist, as dangerous a move as one could get, as those claws could cut through her like butter. She needed to somehow focus her attention on herself. On something safe, familiar.

“Cass—”

Before she could speak, however, the lights went out.

The audience erupted in cheers at first. When nothing happened the volume dropped to whispers, wondering if this was part of the show, building up anticipation. Except that couldn’t be the case if both teams were already in the Fields of Justice and the Challengers on stage themselves looked around, wondering what was going on.

Then –a shrill, chilling sound later, the massive screens showing the Fields lit up again. This time hued red, with a House symbol Katarina could recognize from ages past. A noble House murdered in a single night, leaving behind their sole heir to an assassin’s hands…

 _“Welcome. At last we meet again. But for all the people here who do not know me, let me be known as a ghost from the past coming to haunt the present.”_ A deeply filtered, distorted voice blared through the speakers.

While the audience was left wondering if this was some unorthodox champion reveal, Katarina knew what it was. Not a ghost –a demon.

_“I warned you against summoning me but you did not listen. I wanted to forget about you –both of you, for your own good. I had no right to burry you, I told myself. Now I see that for my justice to be complete, you must be buried. Your House must be buried.”_

Stark floodlights shone onto Katarina and Cassiopeia, making the former squint and the latter hiss loudly. Talon retreated into the shadows, running towards the control room to try and cut off the transmission before irreversible damage could occur.

 _“Your efforts are for naught, Talon. You will always stand in my blade’s shadow.”_ The voice said. _“You cannot protect them from me.”_ Thousands of eyes were focused on them.

Katarina gripped Cassiopeia’s wrist tighter, willing her to stay in control. _To hell with his bullshit, stay with me._ She pleaded with her eyes.

 _“Here is something you need to know about your favorite Noxian House, the Du Couteaus.”_ He addressed the crowd, the world. _“This is how they rose to power and these are the skulls their wealth comfortably rests upon.”_ A dozen different sheets, documents, orders and otherwise evidence pulled up on the screens, showcasing endless illegal dealings, murders of allied Houses, under-the-table deals, blood money, corruption.

It all had either their grandfather’s signature… or their father’s.

Katarina stood there, unable to do _anything_ , staring.

_Helpless._

“What is all this…?” she asked Cassiopeia, who wore an equally shocked expression.

“…I don’t know.” She said, her voice shaking for the first time Katarina had ever heard it.

 _“Now, Noble Houses of Noxus, I call you to rise. Go on and feast on them. Reclaim what’s yours—”_ the transmission was abruptly cut, which meant Talon made it to the source of the signal… too late.

Katarina pulled Cassiopeia out of the spotlight and dashed outside the arena. Once at the safety of her room, the assassin locked the door as if to keep anything and anyone else out. About as effective as a child hiding under a blanket in the face of an imaginary horror.

Cassiopeia sat petrified at her couch, gripping her biceps with fingers and claws that thankfully couldn’t break her own skin. “Katarina?” she said. “I don’t know what to _do_.”

And out of everything that day, perhaps hearing that was the most terrifying thing for the redhead yet.

Katarina’s phone vibrated with a message she was too scared to even read. It was from Darius.

_‘Swain wants to speak with you.’_

Katarina covered her face with her hands and leaned against the doorframe. _What the fuck do I do now…?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just a quick note that no matter how busy life gets and updates slow, I am not abandoning this story. Kat and Ashe are my babes and I have to see their tale to its conclusion. (And then write a story about Cass because I want to write my other bae out of her depressed state she is in rn, and then probably Kayle because hot disillusioned angels are hot, and/or Lissandra x Helena (my oc) because her lines are iconic and I love her. *proceeds to make plans within plans for fics*)

**[Ashe]**

She was growing sick with worry –she hadn’t heard from Katarina in _days_.

The news of the Du Couteau family’s fall from grace echoed across the entirety of Valoran, down to the last corner of the map. For the past week, Ashe felt the pit in her stomach grow with each fleeting whisper, each replay of the events of that night she had to avert her eyes from.

The Du Couteaus had immediately requested a leave for Noxus, to hide or attempt to fight down the flames. Yet every single one of Ashe’s calls had gone unanswered, leaving behind the cold fear that perhaps they could not so much put them out, as merely stand there and endure being burned alive.

Meanwhile, she had to sit in front of a camera and smile prettily for the world to see. Right beside her wonderful husband, living her wonderful life in her wonderful kingdom of—

_Lies._

A voice in the back of her mind always accused. A voice distorted to match Helena’s most of the time. Others, Sejuani’s. Now… Katarina’s.

Ashe allowed her body to drop gracelessly onto her bed, already feeling a headache pound away at her temples. She shut her eyes tightly, but images of green and red danced before her. Rolling around, the queen tiredly reached for her disregarded phone among the sheets. Her heart sunk at the blank screen displaying the time. No calls. No messages.

 _Alone._ The voice of her doubts spoke. _What you will ever be. What you deserve to be. Cold and alone._

 _‘Please, at least text me back.’_ She typed. _‘I need to know you’re alright. I lo—’_

Ashe pressed ‘delete’ faster than she could shoot an arrow.

 _‘Please text me back.’_ She ended up sending, knowing better by then than to expect an answer.

…

For days, Ashe hadn’t felt like herself. She carried out her duties diligently, yet every move came on autopilot, lacking true will behind it. Her heart was simply absent from everything she did. Judging from the worried glances Tryndamere kept shooting at her from the corner of his eyes, it showed.

He must have suspected more than he let on –he did know her almost too well by that point– because talk of Noxus or its most infamous House was always swiftly cut off before it could truly take root. Yet problems always had a way of catching up to Ashe, it seemed. And if she learned one thing so far, it was that every mistake in her life, every failure, came back to haunt her at the worst possible time.

It was the archer who asked Tryndamere to accompany her through the scenic, flowery route back to their dorms that night. The soothing scent of nightshade in full bloom did wonders for her accumulated stress, washing over her in a much-needed air of calm. For a while, there was only peace and quiet, the occasional tap of their boots against the cobblestone path.

Until. Ashe looked up sideways, at the massive looming shadow where the path split. The ease and comfort shattered into something cruel and violent at once. There, in all its glory, stood the Grand Arena. 

By itself, the construct was enough to bring back a loop of painful images from one week prior. Except memories weren’t the only ones to blame for the hitch in Ashe’s breath that moment.

Teal eyes stared, as though caught in a nightmare, at the giant promotional screen, showcasing the summoners of highest interest in the current event, their ‘signature champions’ at their side. ‘ _The dark side of Freljord versus the artificial light of Piltover!’_ The bold letters above them read. On Freljord’s side, in icy font, was the infamous quote of the Frostguard –‘ _Blood will run cold.’_

It was just that Ashe would never get used to seeing the person who once meant the world to her now representing that saying. Standing beside the Ice Witch so proudly, sharing her ideals, looking down on the rest of the world even through a screen.

_Helena._

She always was and always would be a raw subject for Ashe. An open wound she could only hope to ignore rather than heal. It was easier said than done, even in the vast league grounds, for Challengers were always under the spotlight, in one form or another.

A warm hand on the queen’s shoulder broke her out of her thoughts. Tryndamere stood pensive behind her, wordlessly suggesting they move on. It was the better option.

But Ashe didn’t want to turn away again. “I’d like to see the event.” she said. “Shall we go in?”

Tryndamere’s eyes flew to the screen, then landed back down onto her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Ashe lied.

In truth, she had no idea what possessed her to face her demons that night. She heard about Helena’s ever-growing power under Lissandra's guidance daily. Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to truly see it for herself, to witness exactly what she had helped the Ice Witch possess –what she’d _done_. 

From the dark upper floor reserved for Champions and Challengers, the stage looked like a brightly lit wonder, but the individuals on it seemed distant and small. Perhaps it was better that way, Ashe told herself as she cast her gaze about the space.

A lone figure shrouded in shadows turned to glare daggers at her, nearly unrecognizable without her horned helmet and heavy mace. Sejuani, for all her cool pretence of leaving behind the past, once again proved haunted by its memory as surely and powerfully as Ashe was. What other reason would the mighty Warchief of the Winter’s Claw have coming to a game soon to be dominated by Lissandra and her star of a summoner, lingering in shadows for a glimpse of anything resembling their old friend?

Their old flame and source of endless rivalry. Their first crush. Ashe’s first love. Judging by the torn, accusatory look in the depths of Sejuani’s eyes, her own, as well.

 _Don’t look at me like that when you were the first to leave._ Ashe’s gaze darkened.

They pretended the other did not exist after that brief exchange.

The match went on, with the summoners on stage taking their positions. Helena’s expression was unreadable even with all the zooming in the cameras did on her, cold and faceless as the rest of the Frostguard. Perfect, as a mirror made from black ice. Gone was her charming smile, her airy confidence. It was replaced by something glacial and absolute that made the opposing team shake in terror before Lissandra even got close to their champions.

At ten minutes, the Ice Witch was godlike. At twenty, the game was over.

Helena was effortlessly declared the most valuable player of the match, the crowd erupting in chants of her name. Lissandra stood close to her as they answered questions from the host and the fans.

Then the Ice Witch made a subtle cock of her chin towards the upper floor. She casually laid her hand on the summoner’s shoulder. Sejuani’s knuckles went white on the railing. Ashe felt ice rise in her veins.

“A special ‘thank you’ to everyone who made this possible.” The cunning witch incorporated into an answer, a spear directed straight at the two Tribe leaders staring from above.

 _How dare you._ Ashe’s fingers closed into a fist.

The worst part was, Lissandra was _right_.

_The three of them had been as one. Breaking off from their own Tribes to spend time together, sharing their dreams and visions about the future. As time passed and they grew, friendship blossomed into attraction that was never confessed. Too many battles had gotten in the way. Too little time._

_Sejuani had been the first to walk away. By choice or not was unknown, but it crushed Helena and Ashe all the same to find a spot in their secret meetings left vacant from one point onward. Soon after, word of her conquests began to spread. Soon after that, Ashe ran to Helena’s arms crying and_ changed _by a power she couldn’t understand, much less tame._

_The girl, greatly respected in her Tribe, was the sole reason they took Ashe in as one of their own. Gradually, the archer learned to control Avarosa’s bow. With her power and their support, she liberated many oppressed, broken groups all over Freljord, extending them the same kindness Helena’s Tribe had shown her._

_One day, they called her ‘queen’ and a sea of people bowed to her. Helena had been first among the masses, smiling bright at how far she’d come. Ashe felt her heart stop at the sight, unable to think about anything else for a while. It was the first time it occurred to her she had fallen for her closest friend._

_But then._

_The Barbarians started raiding their lands. Battle after battle, Ashe realized the only way to truly bring peace would be to either obliterate them or unite with them. And she had sworn to never again use her powers to create a frozen graveyard._

_The alternative however… wasn’t something Helena would ever accept._

_“What are you talking about?” the girl asked from her seat, raven bangs obscuring her eyes in the dim light of her room. Her voice shook with barely withheld rage._

_“There is no other way, Helen—”_

_“There is no other way?!” she snapped, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Those brutes_ killed _my family have you forgotten that?! I was seven! Seven and swearing to stain my hands with their blood!”_

_“I know that! But there won’t be any more bloodshed, I promise you!”_

_“I_ want _bloodshed.” Helena had said, low and dark in a way she’d never sounded before._

_The next day, when Ashe came out of the meeting room with Tryndamere in tow, she’d looked upon a new ocean of bodies bowed before her. Swearing allegiance to their new queen… future wife of their king._

_Her best friend was still first among her own people. She wasn’t smiling anymore._

_Tryndamere took her hand and proudly announced their marriage._

_Helena stood, the look in her eyes so intense it promised cold hell. Then she turned and walked away. Her retreating back was an image burned into Ashe’s memory for the years to come._

_The price she paid for peace._

…

Ashe had no idea what she was doing, but her body was moving of its own free will down the stairs and through the corridors to the backstage. The guards thankfully didn’t question her presence before they let her through. It didn’t take long to spot billowing black robes moving towards the exit.

“Helena.” she called.

The figure came to a sudden halt. Unmoving, save for the bold, glowing symbol of the Frostguard dominating her back, catching the light in different ways. Lissandra’s ultimate boast of possession. That eye had no place on her. That eye glared at Ashe and mocked her for every single one of her mistakes.

“What do you want, Ashe?” she asked without facing her. Even her voice sounded different. Darker, as was her whole new look.

“I can’t come to see you?” the queen asked.

The summoner partially turned. “I’m not sure what it is you and Sejuani think you’ll see anymore.” Was the icy reply. Her eyes glowed with arcane power in the dark. Those weren’t Helena’s eyes, either.

“Listen, Helena I—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry –you are _not_ sorry.” She said curtly. “If you were sorry, you would have come after me. If either of you was sorry, you wouldn’t abandon me to chase after your own goals. You’ve no idea what I endured without _anyone_ –” her voice cut off at the end. A pause; a haunted look overtook her eyes as her tone dropped an octave. “And you could say I chose it. I did choose it. But… that’s all anyone wants, isn’t it. Someone to rescue them from their own darkness.” Helena then drew a subtle, steadying breath, returning to her distant, emotionless state faster than one could blink. “Everything in life is a choice, Ashe. You made yours, I made mine. I must go now. Lissandra does not like to be kept waiting.”

Ashe’s hand shot forward as though to reach for her. She forced it down to her side the same instant.

Helena’s words replayed endlessly in her mind long after she had left. _“You abandoned me”_ lodged in her heart like a bullet.

_“Everything in life is a choice.”_

Ashe chose to sacrifice her happiness for her people and her vow. Except it wasn’t just her own happiness she sacrificed. It was years later she saw that and no matter what she did, the guilt ate away at her.

She just couldn’t _balance_ her life between what she wanted and what she could have.

And it was the same with Katarina.

She worried from afar, sent texts she knew would never be answered yet nothing truly stopped her from being _there_. Nothing other than the fear that gripped at her gut and chocked the breath in her lungs, that they would be found out and her crown would crack. The peace she gave her _blood_ and her first _love_ and her very _self_ up for would–

Shatter.

But.

_“That’s all anyone wants, isn’t it. Someone to rescue them from their own darkness.”_

Ashe wasn’t certain what was right or wrong anymore. She only knew she wasn’t going to make the same mistake again –she wasn’t going to let the woman she loved drown among her demons, all alone.

…

Noxus’ layout was… confusing. The kingdom was apparently broken into three main rings, with several districts in between. Structured in such a way that the poorer citizens were forced to live in the outskirts, the outer ring, the middle class in the center and the nobles at the upper one, built upon a hill overlooking the rest.

Ataraxia, Noxus’ renowned capital, stood as an intimidating wonder at the heart of the upper ring, sporting a dark palette and strict architecture. From afar, all one could see in the dark were dim lights, jagged edges.

On her trip to Ataraxia, Ashe was nearly mugged _thrice_. She could easily tell why the lower-class citizens looked upon the riches of the elite with such wonder, why they would do anything for a chance to escape the harsh life in the outskirts. Under the safety of her hood, Ashe left some of the gold she didn’t need to starving orphans. The rest, she used to pay the insane taxes all the way to the top.

From there, locating the Du Couteau residence was child’s play. A manor with the very distinct crest of the House was not exactly the epitome of subtlety. Ashe worked up the courage to push open the main gate, make her way to the front doors.

Compared to the rest of Noxus, Ataraxia was quiet. Compared even to the capital, however, the mansion was eerily silent under the light of the setting sun. There was no sign of guards, as one would expect. No maids tending to the gardens, though the red roses neatly tucked among trimmed bushes were clearly taken regular care of.

Ashe felt her palms sweat as she rang the bell. Folding them behind her back, she waited for any sign of life. Distant footsteps echoed from inside. A pause, then the doors opened just a crack, revealing a well-dressed, middle-aged woman. The years had been more than kind to her, bringing a mature beauty over her features, although it was her brown eyes that Ashe caught herself lingering on. Contrary to the polite smile on her lips, those eyes spoke of an immense weight. Of immense sadness.

“Hello, miss. May I help you?” she asked in a gentle voice.

“I’m looking for Katarina, I’m a frien—” before Ashe had the time to finish her sentence, the woman was already hurrying to shut the door.

“The Lady has not been here for some time—”

The archer’s hand locked firmly onto the door, blocking its movement. “Please.” she said, staring into the woman’s eyes and hoping hers would prove her sincerity. “I need to see her.” The lady stared long and hard at Ashe’s face, recognition slowly breaking across her expression—

“Freya, what the _hell_ is taking so long?” Katarina’s voice came, hoarse with rage. The distinct sound of her blades being drawn reached the archer’s ears, just as the door was forced wide open.

The assassin froze.

Ashe felt something like relief, like light, thaw the ice inside at the sight of her. Any control she may have had on her body language broke. Seconds later she was being pulled into familiar arms.

Katarina’s grip was so tight on her wrist it bordered on painful, as though trying to assure herself she was real. Ashe dug her nails into the redhead’s black blouse to keep her there. The woman from earlier, Freya, rushed to shut the door before she excused herself to the side, giving them privacy.

“Ashe? Why are you here?” Katarina asked, reluctantly pulling back. Myriads of emotions flashed through her green eyes.

“I needed to know you’re okay.” the archer replied. “Are you?”

The Sinister Blade looked away. By itself, that said a lot. Her arms fell from around her. “I’m–”

She never had time to speak. “What is _she_ doing in here?” came from atop the staircase, Cassiopeia’s harsh gaze piercing holes through the queen’s form. Her eyes and claws gleamed in the relative darkness of the balcony. Another shadow came from the other side, Talon wordlessly observing from his corner, his stance none-too-welcoming, either.

“She’s my guest.” Katarina turned to glare back at them both.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” Cassiopeia flexed her claws impatiently.

“She is my _guest_.” Katarina repeated. Talon’s jaw worked, but he nodded, retreating to his room. The younger sister muttered something about a ‘death wish’, shook her head and slithered away. Ashe tried not fidget as she stood there. “Follow me.” The assassin said calmly. “We’ll talk, but not here.”

…

Katarina’s room was everything Ashe had expected it to be. It was so _her_ she had to contain a smile. Rows of knives decorated one dark wall, a rack of swords gleaming beneath them. There was a desk of dark, polished wood, a big wardrobe matching it adjacent to the bed. And of course, the mattress sported black satin sheets and red blankets.

Ashe subtly looked around before her gaze landed on a single picture frame, sitting alone atop the bedside table. A younger Katarina had her right arm wrapped around a gorgeous girl’s neck, both of them caught in the middle of a laugh, her other hand onto a handsome guy’s face and trying to push him out of the frame.

It took Ashe several seconds to recognize the girl as Cassiopeia, the man as Talon. They seemed like completely different people. Unburdened by the weight always clinging to them for as long as Ashe had known them, carefree and for the first time ever, looking like a family.

Katarina came up behind her, staring down at the image. “That… was a very long time ago.” Was all she said.

Then she moved to sit on her bed, fatigue coloring every movement. Ashe joined her side.

For a while, nothing more was uttered.

“Did you know?” the archer asked, an indefinite amount of time later. Perhaps a rude question to start with, but it had been eating away at her for some time, whether Katarina was aware of just _how_ bloodied her money was.

“None of us knew. Not even my sister, with all her digging, could ever find a trace of how we rose to our power and status. My father made sure to take those secrets to his grave –but then, how could Zeke find such proof.” She brought a hand up to cover her face, fingers tight with tension. “He couldn’t even do that for us.” Katarina said darkly. “He couldn’t even disappear and take his _shit_ along with him.”

Ashe was at a loss for words, uncertain what to do or say.

The assassin took a breath. “Zeke thinks he’s killed us, but he underestimated my sister’s sway over the nobles. Although we are literally hanging by the skin of our teeth, down to a quarter of our wealth and severely lacking in allies and political power, we are not dead yet. I swear he will pay for everything he took from us.”

Ashe took her hand, enclosing it within her own. Those fingers were decorated with scars and cuts so tiny one would never notice unless they really looked. They told their own story, of how Katarina hurt to get to where she was right then. Of how the Sinister Blade of Noxus was created.

“But you… you’re a problem.” Katarina said, green locking onto blue. Unreadable. “You’re a weakness.”

Ashe felt her heart constrict at the sound of those words. Still, she kept her gaze even, her head up, as a queen always should. “Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry if me coming here made things worse for you.” She let go of the assassin’s hand, standing with forced grace to go.

_It was a bad move, Ashe. Bad move, what were you thinking–_

A warm hand closed around her own, the redhead’s body instantly wrapping around her from behind like a solid, safe cloak. Katarina held her tight, conveying with actions what she was raised to never speak through words. A crimson head dropped onto the crook of her neck. Ashe allowed herself to surrender into the feel, silencing the doubts in her mind.

“You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here.” Katarina confessed quietly. “Thank you.”

 _‘Thank you’_. Perhaps it was the first time ever that the assassin said those words. Meant them, with such gravity.

Ashe turned her head towards the other woman’s, shutting her eyes to fight off tears. _Don’t leave me_ , bubbled the silent plea from a broken part inside of her. _I won’t know how to put the pieces back together._

“Don’t leave.” Katarina echoed her own thoughts.

“I won’t.” Ashe promised.

High treason or death or a miracle, whatever fate had in store for them, Ashe was not going to let Katarina face it by herself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :D finally posting the new update, otherwise it would wait another week. Sorry for any mistakes, they will be corrected when I find time to proofread. Very difficult and busy week work-wise coming up, so gimme your strength. And your comments ^.^. Love you all!

**[Katarina]**

Muscles coiled. Tendons strained. Sweat ran down a locked jaw.

_Katarina was running through a forest. So familiar yet so alien at the same time, the Fields of Justice distorted into an endless landscape. Filtered grey and lifeless, the thick braches of the trees cast disproportional shadows onto the cracked, washed out earth below. She was running, but what was she running from?_

_A faceless shadow loomed far behind her, catching up despite her best efforts. A ghost. A demon._

_All around her, other apparitions sprung to life. In sharp contrast to the fiend, however, their features were clear –painfully so. They were people Katarina had killed, from her early years to her most recent victims. All of their forms sported black cuts where her blades had sliced through them in life –and her subcoscious should not be able to recall that with such startling detail. Yet, there they were._

Color. I need to see color. _She wished, until her plea came true._

_Then she wanted to take it back._

_Up ahead, the river of the Fields was overflowing, gradually drowning out the land. Except it wasn’t water that was taking over everything. It was–_

_Blood._

_Katarina came to an abrupt halt at the edge, staring into the crimson that seemed to stare back. A dying hawk twitched by her feet, wispy, white and pristine. Green eyes widened at the sight, searching desperately for its owner and hoping to never find her. Alas, there, amidst the pool of blood, was a single spot of white. Katarina shunpo’ed to it, uncaring about being waist-deep in gore._

_“Ashe!” she shouted, gathering the prone form into her shaking arms. No reply came. No movement. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be any damage on her, the woman’s eyes merely closed as though in eternal sleep, the white of her hair stained red. Then Katarina looked closer, at the black lines under her eyes, curling over her temple and neck. Poison._

_She recognized that poison._

_That poison took her mother from her._

_“No, no no…” she lamented, hugging Ashe close._

_It couldn’t take her love from her, too. It couldn’t, it_ couldn’t _._

_The demon stood at the edge of the river. Stared at her. Grinned._

Katarina jumped upright in her bed, breath coming out in harsh puffs of air, knuckles white around the crinkled sheets. Her hands were shaking, but, at the same time, there was unspeakable relief washing over her. _It was just a nightmare._ She told herself. _Not real. Not real. Pull yourself together._

A drop of water hitting her hand, still grasping the sheets, caught her attention. The redhead’s brow furrowed, wondering, briefly, if the ceiling was leaking. Three more drip-drops crashed onto her skin before they disappeared onto the fabric below. Slowly, the assassin reached a hand up to her face. It took her several seconds to realize that the water came from her own eyes. That she… was crying.

She wasn’t a total stranger to the concept of tears, exactly –she felt the prickling sensation in the backs of her eyelids more often than she would like to admit. Rather, she had been taught they were a sign of weakness and growing up, had found other ways to shed them. Cutting someone else till they cried for her. Staying out while the sky was pouring. Hitting something till she bled.

Her father had hit her when she couldn’t stop the damn liquid from rolling down her cheeks days after the loss of her mother. Reprimanded her. Assassins could bleed, but they couldn’t cry.

She had hit herself the next time, when news of Riven’s faked death had been delivered to her family. Katarina would swear she had never liked her, her smug smirk or the fact she dared date her sister, but somewhere along the way, she made the mistake of thinking of her as a friend rather than an expendable tool.

The time after that was the most difficult of all. After Cassiopeia had been brought home, unconscious, before their father and Katarina. She had been too shocked to cry at the first glance of a tail, talons, her sister’s luscious hair burned to coals from the poison. She had been too petrified to do _anything_ after the woman woke up and started screaming, rampaging like a wild animal, claws tearing through half the house staff. It was the days after she came back to herself, trying to unsuccessfully tear at her own skin, when she had to shave her hair so it could regrow in time, when she locked herself in her room and shouts at Katarina turned to whispered pleas of _“Don’t look at me.”_

That was when no amount of hitting or bleeding could stop the onslaught of tears burning lines down her face, grasped in her hands with her back pressed outside her sister’s locked door. She didn’t care then if her father walked by and saw. Tears were a sign of weakness –and she was at her weakest.

Katarina quickly wiped at her cheeks and disentangled herself from the prison of sheets. She was out the door the same instant, taking a sharp turn towards the most luxurious guest room of the house prepared for Ashe to sleep in. Outside the door, she paused. Listened for any sign of unrest.

When no sound came, she carefully turned the handle and peered inside. A waterfall of white hair was spilled over a dark pillow, the figure in the large bed sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling in gentle motions. Katarina let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

“Kat…?”

The assassin nearly jumped out of her own skin. Ashe’s neck slowly turned towards her, blue eyes fluttering as though still half-asleep.

“It’s me.” she answered quietly, trying not to worry the archer. “Don’t worry I… just took a wrong turn.” _In my own house._ By the gods, it was the worst lie she told in her life. Cassiopeia would be appalled.

Thankfully, Ashe was either too sleepy to notice or simply let it slide. “Come here.” she said, hand moving invitingly under the covers to pat the spot beside her. The assassin knew she should refuse, but she was already walking closer. Sitting down, leaning over her. Ashe’s eyes really were the most beautiful thing in the world, especially in the dark, she noted.

A cool hand reached up to her cheek. The redhead hoped it wasn’t still damp, feared that Ashe would somehow realize regardless. “Everything okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah just… don’t think I’m going back to sleep anytime soon.” the assassin said. “But you should.” Carefully, she reached a hand into Ashe’s long hair, running her fingers through the silky white tresses to assure herself they were never stained by blood. The archer’s eyelids fluttered shut. She leaned her head closer, almost against Katarina’s shoulder. The assassin adjusted her position to lay comfortably next to her, absently continuing her ministrations while her mind drifted off.

At some point during the night, she turned to look at Ashe’s gorgeous face, unburdened and relaxed in a dreamless sleep.

 _Is this smart?_ She thought. _Getting this close to someone_. Katarina had no delusions about deserving it. Ashe, or the peace she brought her. _Someone who can ruin me._ If they were ever discovered…

_Or will I ruin you first?_

Then again, everything Katarina cherished got taken away or broken one way or another. Maybe this was just a race against time, until either one or the other came to be.

Poison seemed to be their family’s undoing. But in her eyes, Katarina thought maybe _she_ was the poison. Killing everything she touched.

…

The early morning hours found Katarina restless, walking down the stairs to the living room. The now silent space used to be so lively, with staff tending to every aspect of it, coming and going to the kitchen, the gardens. And yet, that was but a distant memory at that point. Deserted; that was how the house felt, after the tragedy that struck their family.

A heavenly scent tickled Katarina’s nostrils and stopped the assassin in her tracks, one she would recognize anywhere –hot coffee. Her feet carried her of their own accord over to the kitchen, where Freya was dutifully working.

“You’re up so early?” Katarina asked, hovering by the threshold.

“I woke and couldn’t fall back to sleep, Lady.” The woman replied easily.

“Will you ever stop calling me that?” The redhead raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at her lips. That was how it had always been with Freya. ‘Lady’, ever since Cassiopeia and her were children. Even when the assassin started coming back stained by others’ blood. Even after their father had the remaining house staff fired for Cassiopeia’s sake and she chose to stay regardless. Even though she raised them like the mother they lost–

_Don’t go down that road._

But it was hard not to, when the woman turned to her, offering a mug of steaming coffee and looking at her with such blatant affection in her eyes. Katarina wordlessly took it.

“Of course not. Also, this is for Lady Cassiopeia.” The woman provided another cup, smelling much sweeter than the assassin’s plain black coffee. “She is in the back gardens, alone.” She may as well have pushed Katarina to go to her, the way she said it. The redhead hesitated. Approaching Cassiopeia after the change was never easy, but it became that much more difficult in their home, in the very space that was filled with memories and photographs of how things were before. She could refuse –Cassiopeia would probably want her to refuse.

But the torn look in Freya’s eyes weighted too heavily on her.

Katarina accepted the second mug and paused at the door. Looking over her shoulder, she debated her next words.

 _“Assassins don’t say ‘thank you’. I will never hear that word from you again.”_ Her father’s words came to mind. Scolding her seven-year-old self, who had earlier been patched up by Freya after a training session gone south.

 _Fuck you._ Katarina thought bitterly.

Some things were long overdue.

“Freya.” She said. “Thank you.” Too little. Too little for a woman who had sacrificed so much for them. It still felt like pulling teeth, but Katarina forced the words she already felt out her mouth: “Thank you for everything you do for my family.” 

…

The back gardens were…a special place for the two of them, Cassiopeia and herself.

They had always been their mother’s favorite spot in the entire mansion other than her study, the flowers there handpicked by her and preserved for all the years after her death. Her murder. Of course, with the people tending to them fired, there was only so much Freya could do by herself. Some of the bioluminescent pandoras and anemones had wilted away, leaving gaps and empty spaces in the patterns Katarina remembered they had been arranged in.

Cassiopeia was sitting where she always had, the stone bench near the roses and the small pond. Katarina almost faltered in her steps at the sight, but she willed herself forward, knowing her sister would pick up on the pause if she made one. Several reports were laying in the young woman’s lap, yet her eyes weren’t focused on the letters, her mind too far away.

The redhead left the coffee next to Cassiopeia almost like a peace offering, before she sat on the other end.

“The mansion feels very different since I was last here.” The younger sibling began.

“Well, it was never exactly ‘homey’.” Katarina stated, looking around. She felt it too, though. What was once ‘home’ now reduced to… just a house. And they, strangers in it.

“The pond is empty.” Was a simple observation, hiding an unspoken question in its depths. Something strangely unguarded lingered in Cassiopeia’s light green eyes as she stared at the surface of the water.

 _Oh. Right._ There used to be a family of turtles hanging about the pond, always occupying either the water or the bushes closest to it. They had been there since Katarina could remember herself, their mother apparently fond enough of the small intruders to let them stay. “I think the little guys… left.” _Or died. Dammit, they probably died._

Cassiopeia exhaled, akin to a mirthless chuckle. “How smart of them.”

“You think?”

“Of course. If your girl was smart she’d leave too.” Katarina felt her scarred eye twitch at the jab, but it lacked Cassiopeia’s usual spice when she wanted to really annoy her or drive a point home. “You know, the first days, when I was trying to find ways to salvage this financial mess and settle our debts, part of me hoped we actually _had_ to sell the house.”

That one hurt. Katarina lowered her head. “Look I see what you mean but this is… all that’s left. Once we settle this, we don’t have to come back here –or not at the same time.”

Cassiopeia simply nodded her head. The assassin was hoping that she wouldn’t. “I’m working on finding a lead on Zeke. Once I do, promise me you won’t hesitate.”

“I won’t.” Katarina rose –until claws and fingers wrapped firmly around her forearm. It wasn’t a painful touch, Cassiopeia had gotten the hang of her inhuman strength, but it somehow hurt regardless. A phantom pain, crawling up the redhead’s arm and to her chest, because this was the only time her sister reached for her without the intent to attack.

“No matter who is there, or _who_ is on the line. _Promise_ me.” Cassiopeia stared straight into her eyes.

“I promise.” Katarina looked back. The younger sister loosened her grip, letting her hand lower back to her side. Just as she turned to leave, however, the assassin was stopped by yet another thing. A question, this time.

“There is one thing I need to ask you, though. Before I never step back here again.”

Katarina’s blood ran cold, part of her expecting –dreading– what was to come.

“What did you and father argue about, the night before he disappeared?”

_Cold. The day was dark like night and cold. For the first time, Katarina felt the chill all the way down to her bones. It resonated with an unbearable ache in her chest and behind her eyes, making it hard to breathe. It rendered the tears that ran down her cheeks only minutes prior burning, like a brand._

_Yet she stood tall as she knocked on that door –her father’s sanctum, the training room. She pretended, as she had been taught to, that she was iron, hard and unbending. Everything was fine, even if nothing was._

_Talon was already standing inside, at his usual corner by the general’s side, a shadow._

_“My daughter. I have a very important task to assign you tonight–”_

“My ears were ringing constantly after the transformation, but I did hear you shout, of that I’m sure.” Cassiopeia’s voice brought her back to the present. It was a good thing too, because otherwise the redhead would be having a panic attack.

“Nothing.” Katarina turned to face her, lying in the best way that she could, the way that could fool even Cassiopeia if she reverted into her asshole self, said it with _just_ enough indifference. “He was just being an asshole, as always. And I had had _enough_.”

She left before her sister could ask anything further.

Before she could ask if it had anything to do with her.

Because in that case, Katarina didn’t trust herself to lie convincingly before she broke down.

…

“Throw it in the trash, I don’t care, I want it gone.” Katarina said to Freya, throwing maps and tearing documents across the lower floor’s training room. “All of this shit about assassin tenets, burn _all_ of it and throw away the ashes.” The assassin _shunpo’ed_ across the space, kicking over a table, which split from the force.

“B-But Lady, are you certain? You know how important these are to your f–”

“I know.” Katarina grinned darkly. “This is why I want it all gone.”

The training room. The very space where her father spent all of his days and most of his nights. Where he brought Katarina to start her training, the one space in the house she associated with little more than darkness and pain. Where he had absolute control and her mother had no say in what went on inside, because one of his daughters would follow in the steps of their forefathers and his own, an assassin to continue their line of killers, while the other would be playing the political game of power upsets. Katarina’s and Cassiopeia’s talents had been clear since they were old enough to talk. Their roles had been defined accordingly. 

Katarina had shed her sweat and blood in that room. She had shed her weakness and cultivated strength in its place. Even if, after getting to know Ashe, she felt she lost more than she realized along the way.

Still, she made her father proud, she met her stepbrother in that same chamber.

And yet.

_“I have a very important task to assign you tonight, my daughter. Nobody else can do it but you.”_

She locked the room behind an iron lock and chains after her father’s disappearance, just like the master bedroom. They were spaces that belonged to someone else, she thought. It was an attempt at respect, she told herself. Or perhaps, it was a failed attempt at keeping the memories of this space locked within, so they would stop eating away at her, at what little bit of a person was left in her.

It didn’t work. _So now…_

“What is the meaning of this?” Talon’s voice came from the threshold, aggravated in a way that almost never showed.

Freya stopped in the middle of carrying the large black bag full of what Katarina had labelled ‘trash’ to the side. The Du Couteau turned to gaze at her brother over her shoulder, from the perch of the three stairs that led up to her father’s desk, a spot once occupied by the master assassin himself.

“What have you done with this place?!” came out in a demanding snarl.

“I’m redecorating.” Katarina smirked in her cruellest way. “Like the new look? I think I’ll fill it with bullshit to match its old vibe.”

Talon’s eyes darkened. “Stop this _nonsense_ right now. Everything in here belongs to your father. Only he has a right to make this room into something else.”

Katarina’s smirk dropped into a thin line. She faced Talon fully, eyes radiating danger. “And where is my father, exactly?” she asked. “Where has he been for the past two years, have you seen him?” she continued, taking a menacing step down the stairs. “Have you heard from him while my sister and I were struggling with the Elite?” Another step. “Did you see him now that we almost drowned in debts?” The final step. “I _didn’t_.”

Talon opened his mouth. Closed it. “He’s alive, I’m sure of it. I will _find_ him.”

“You won’t find _shit_.” Katarina said icily. “My stand-in time of waiting around for him to show up has long passed. _I_ am the Head of the House now.” Something she never wanted to be. “Everything you see in it, belongs to me. Not my father –to _me_.” A pause. “If I want something gone, you won’t speak up to me. Like you wouldn’t speak up to him.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” Talon assumed his fighting stance. “I owe all that I am to the general. I will not let you destroy everything he values here.”

“Try and stop me.” Katarina grinned.

The next moment, they were clashing in the middle of the room. In a duel painfully reminiscent of that cold day, blades met, metal grinding against metal in a deafening screech. The redhead _shunpo’ed_ back to recover her strength, but Talon followed with his own version of the shadow step, arm extended for a hit. That was when Katarina twisted her body to the side fast, knocking him off balance for a fraction of a second –enough to _shunpo_ over him and reach for the back of his head, smashing it onto the ground.

“You couldn’t beat me that day and you can’t do it now. You won’t do it ever!” she yelled, enraged like a lion stirred in its nest. “I will burn this place to the ground if I want to. And if you’re so loyal to my father that you’ll sit here like a guard dog on its leash protecting what he left behind, then you can burn with it!”

“Katarina!” Ashe’s voice made her cease the pressure. Her blue eyes, wide at the door. “Stop.” She said, coming closer.

As soon as the redhead eased her hold, Talon kicked free and stepped away, creating some much-needed distance. Instantly, he drew his hood over his head, as though there was any safety to be found there. Or was it safety from judgement he sought?

Ashe’s cold hand wrapped around her elbow. Katarina had to lock all her muscles not to continue the fight –she was taught to go in, not how to disengage. An assassin only sheathed their blade once it was truly over. But she’d decided to burn her father’s teachings to cinders, anyway. Taking a breath and holding it, Katarina slid her swords into their place at her back.

“How do you think I felt?” Talon asked under his hood, a strange waver to his voice. “It was what she wanted. But how do you think I _felt_!”

_“I have a very important task to assign you tonight, my daughter. Nobody else can do it but you.” Her father came close, placing his hands on her shoulders. It was strange, the emotion in his voice. The gesture. “Talon will assist you in what needs to be done.”_

_“Father…?”_

Talon brushed past her, clutching his cloak tighter around himself as he made his hasty exit. Freya stood there, suspecting more than she let on, judging by the broken look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Ashe asked, coming to stand in front of her, raising gentle fingers to her cheek to wipe away the water building there. “You’re… crying?”

_“Your orders are to free Cassiopeia from her suffering.”_

“My father ordered me to kill my sister.” Katarina found the words spilling from her lips before she could stop them. But she had been holding them in for so long, they felt like they would eat her alive. “So I tried to kill him and Talon instead.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are steadily approaching the end of this long journey guys. It is time for both Katarina and Ashe to face their demons, whichever form those may be in. 
> 
> On another note, I have a looooottt of ideas for fics (and no time to write them lol) ever since I got back into League so I would really appreciate it if you could tell me in a comment (or I may make a straw poll, we'll see) which pairing you'd like to see next. I have plans for Cassiopeia x Oc, Lissandra x Helena (my oc introduced in this fic), Kayle x Oc, anddd drum roll, Evelynn x Oc (who is entirely too hot and has become my latest obsession don't judge me okayyy), All of them set in the same universe as this fic, with different summoners as love interests of the above champions, because I can't see them with any other already existing character. Thank you in advance, hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

**[Talon]**

The sun did not seem like it would rise that day, obscured by myriad rainclouds. It was, perhaps, a small mercy from the gods, for Talon did not want to be seen by light –by anything. He reached up to his leather hood to make sure it was still in place, still protecting him from scrutiny, shielding his emotions, as he quickly climbed up Ataraxia’s massive clocktower.

Every Du Couteau had their own sanctuary to retreat to when they needed an escape, sacred to them and solitary. Cassiopeia had the spot by the roses and the pond, in the back gardens. Katarina’s was the highest point at the roof of the mansion, perched seemingly on air. Talon... never dared claim a ground within the house as his own. It felt wrong, somehow, like an intrusion. So he chose the clocktower, imposing and distant, yet still holding the best view of the Du Couteau estate from afar. It was fitting, he thought.

The assassin walked the perimeter around the clock, stopping only when he was certain he stood under the darkest shadow of the deepest nook. All around, the guardian gargoyles seemed as though they kept the rest of the world out. Except, this time, the real enemy, he knew, was not out there.

It was inside.

It was –memory.

And memory was not something he could simply hide away from. Not something that would easily pass him by, that would allow him to blend with the darkness and be at peace.

_On that cold day, Talon stood where he always had –by the general’s side. It was Marcus Du Couteau who made him into everything that he was, from a homeless urchin to a feared assassin. From the streets, to wealth and power. From solitude, to a family._

A family –under conditions. He was to be their protector, not their brother. He was to follow every single one of the general’s orders above their own. He was to obey his master in any and all circumstances. And for a time, he had been perfect in his role. Looking back, he wasn’t even certain where it went wrong.

Where his charge became his sisters. Where the general became his father. Where the lines of his loyalties began to blend. Blur.

Perhaps it was the time Katarina had _shunpo’ed_ to his window, nearly giving him a heart attack, to get him to go out with Cassiopeia, Riven and her for drinks. Perhaps it was when the youngest Du Couteau had taken him out for shopping because ‘nobody in this house is allowed to look anything less than stellar’, making him carry bags back to the mansion that amounted to the fatigue of three workouts. Perhaps it was Katarina’s mischievous smirks and Cassiopeia’s thousand-kilowatt charm, or the way they communicated without the need for words, but at some point he had made it his life’s purpose to preserve that despite the need of orders.

He never would have thought his orders would be to destroy the very thing he vowed to protect.

_He didn’t move when Katarina entered the room, strolling with sheer determination towards her father, even though Talon could see the shadowed lines under her eyes, the tightness to her lips. He didn’t move –ever since his orders had been announced he couldn’t –he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t lift his head and meet her eyes._

_He hadn’t been able to meet either of their eyes for days –he should have insisted to go with Cassiopeia to Shurima, he should have been there instead of some mercenary, he should have been_ there _._

_The conversation between Katarina and their father –no, her father– was muted to his ears even though they stood right next to him. He only saw her green eyes widen, her jaw drop open. Disbelief, then shock, then terror etch its way across her pretty face._

_“Your orders are to free Cassiopeia from her suffering.”_

_Then –something Talon had only witnessed in battle. A snap, where emotion shut off, replaced by a singular seething bloodlust, where the green eyes of his sister turned into those of a killer, bottomless in their cruelty, in their capability of it._

_Katarina’s lip twitched, though in a broken smile or snarl was impossible to tell. “…you’re asking me to kill my sister?” Talon predicted her movement before it was made, her sword drawn in a flash and going straight for her father’s neck. He –reacted._

_He used his own version of the shunpo instinctively, getting in the way and blocking the blade with his gauntlet, while the general leapt back. Katarina wasn’t looking at him, almost as if he had no reflection in her eyes. She was set on her target and Talon knew from her conditioning she would not stop until that target was bleeding at her feet._

_He tried to stop her, but she was too fast. Too focused. In the end, she stared down her father, her blade pressed to Talon’s neck, holding his head locked to the side with her arm. “Do you want me to kill him, instead?!” she roared at Marcus. Talon knew in that moment she would. “I will end him and then I will end you!”_

_The hiss of a sword –and sharp pain followed, blood leaking across Talon’s fingers as they grasped at the side of his neck. Not a cut to kill, but to immobilize. If he pushed his body to protect the general, he was going to bleed to death before the healers could patch him up. Out of his vision, the sounds of swords clashing rang in his ears._

_Talon could never imagine a world where Marcus Du Couteau lost in a duel. He wasn’t certain of the outcome, but he heard the general ask, breathless: “You’d kill me, daughter?”_

_“You’re not my father. He’s not my brother.” Katarina replied icily. “But if you ever were, you’d know there is_ nobody _on this damn earth I_ wouldn’t _kill for Cassiopeia.”_

Talon could not recall much of what occurred after that, except Katarina’s rigid back as she exited the room. Marcus lifting him up and calling the maids proficient at healing, Freya rushing to his side. He had been in and out of consciousness for a day. When he came to it, the general was gone.

Vanished, without a trace. He still couldn’t find a trace.

Talon was left behind, alone with the cloak Marcus had gifted him for a job well done, hiding underneath it to hide his shame for his countless failures. He failed to follow orders, to defend the man who saved him. He failed to protect Cassiopeia. He failed to stand by Katarina’s side when she needed him the most.

_Failure._

He wondered, in the most vulnerable corners of his mind, what they saw when they looked at him. _“He’s not my brother.”_ Katarina’s words cut and cut and _cut_ the more they repeated in his head.

The picture of the three of them laughing was taken five years ago, but it felt like a different universe. Back then, everything was simple. Talon didn’t have to choose between his heart and his duty. But he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He was prepared to atone for his mistakes, even if it meant dying for them.

Dying, for his sisters.

**[Ashe]**

Seven missed calls from Tryndamere. Twice as many from the chiefs of her inner circle.

Ashe knew that her kingdom was faring well the days of her radio silence, but she knew with equal certainty her image was not. Tensions were rising, especially on Tryndamere's side of the council. She needed to return, but Katarina needed her there and once again she felt her heart and crown pull two diametrically opposite directions.

As if on que, her phone started vibrating again on its perch upon the nightstand –Ashe had set it on silent long ago, unable to bear the constant sound of it ringing. Her husband’s name flashed in bold white letters across the screen. She debated not answering for the umpteenth time. Yet…

“Yes, Tryndamere.” She huffed tiredly into the microphone. “I’m alive, I’m okay.” She assured, before he had a chance to ask.

 _“You’re okay, but_ where _?”_ He spoke hurriedly on the other line. _“Everyone is worried, they’re looking for you–”_

“I did text you I was fine the first night…”

 _“The media is already speculating it has to do with us.”_ A pause.

“The media always is.” Ashe couldn’t keep the irritation from her tone. Just once could the press _stop_ prying into her affairs?

 _“You are my_ wife _, Ashe. You know how this looks.”_ He was right, of course. But –‘ _My wife’._ Those two words that had been spoken so many times between them suddenly rang so _wrong_ inside her head. _“Your place is here, by my side.”_ She had to bite her lip so hard it nearly bled to keep from saying anything back. She reminded herself she chose this. It was her own decision, the knife she stabbed through her own chest for her people. _“Come back now. Our people need you.”_

And she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Are you sure it’s _me_ they need?” she asked, forgoing the dam on her emotions queen Ashe always kept up. “Is it _me_ , or their flawless reincarnation of Avarosa?”

She ended the call, throwing her phone onto the bed so it wouldn’t fly out the window in a snap of nerves. It wasn’t fair on him, not truly. But the archer had felt trapped inside her own skin for so _long_ –

“Ashe?” Katarina’s voice came from the threshold. Her knuckles rapped against it only after she was already in. The archer slowly turned, her eyebrows drawn together tightly. It was a wonder to her how she had frozen the emotions on her face for so many years. If she tried then, she could stay expressionless for all of five seconds.

 _Get a grip._ She told herself. But she wasn’t sure which part of her she was talking to.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you snap at anyone before.” Ashe looked guiltily to the side, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Hey, if you need to go, I get it.” Katarina crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. Her black blouse clung tightly to her form, bringing out the toning of her arms and shoulders. Ashe’s eye caught for a moment, at the sight, at the loose body language, at _her_.

In the briefest of moments, she caught herself thinking if Katarina called her hers, anything of hers, there wouldn’t be a single part of her averse to it.

And that, was worrisome.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked. The assassin gave a cautious nod. Three measured steps closed the distance between them. Ashe reached forward, hesitating a mere millisecond before she touched Katarina’s forearm, as though the redhead was forbidden ground for her. In a way… she was. “When you look at me, what do you see?” No, that wasn’t exactly right. “What did you see, before you approached me?”

“Well…” Katarina frowned slightly. “Other than the most beautiful woman in the world?” Ashe waited for more, cool hand on her warm one. She needed that answer. “You were regal, distant. I always saw you as the face of Freljord. Not so much… you.”

“I haven’t been _me_ for a very long time.” Ashe confessed, blue eyes dropping to their anchoring point of contact. Her grip on the redhead tightened. “I understand what you meant by ‘weakness’ and ‘problem’. I don’t know if I should thank you or curse you for showing me the part of me I lost.” _Discarded_. _Threw away because it just didn’t fit with what they needed._

_Gods. Did I throw Helena and Sejuani away as easily as I threw myself?_

“…same.” Katarina whispered under her breath.

“And now that I saw it, I can’t unsee it. But _they_ want to see Avarosa’s chosen, her reincarnation, a queen of queens.” _Will I have to pretend my entire life I am?_

_I can’t._

_I_ can’t _–_

 _You_ have _to._ Another part of her cut in.

Katarina’s free hand came above Ashe’s own, solid and steady, bringing her out of her flare of panic. “Look. I don’t know what you’ll choose to be. Or what that will mean for us.” the assassin started. “But I will respect your decision even if I fucking hate it.” A tiny, slow smile broke across Ashe’s lips. “For now, though, you’re here. And I think you _really_ need a break.” Katarina’s fingers rose to guide a lock of hair back from her chin and neck, the brief contact burning like a lick of fire. Her mouth curled into the sexiest smirk. “Luckily, I happen to have a very fancy jacuzzi.”

“Oh, do you?” Ashe couldn’t help but smile back. The assassin took her hand, pulling her out the room and down the corridor. “What, no swimsuit?” the archer asked with a little smirk.

“You don’t need one.” Katarina answered with one of her own.

The bathroom was downright _luxurious_. Ashe had been living in her own share of comfort ever since her Tribe settled in one place and built her palace, but even in all its finery there was no bathing room quite like that. Polished tiles and dark wood furnishings led to the steps of the pool-sized jacuzzi, illuminated from within by atmospheric lights, its edges glowing electric blue.

Katarina let go of her hand, turned to face her. “Need help to take this off?” her fingers played with the hem of her button-up shirt impatiently. Ashe felt heat crawl up her neck and blamed it on the hot water elevating the room’s temperature. She barely had a chance to nod before the assassin went to rip the fabric open, but her archer reflexes caught up to the movement and seized her hands in a chilly grip.

“I like this shirt.”

Katarina regarded her through dark eyes, the green in them pushed to the very edges of her pupil. Hot and hungry was a look on her that could melt all the ice in Freljord, and it certainly did the same for its queen, but Ashe knew she couldn’t let the redhead have all the power, the way she was so obviously used to. Katarina said it herself she always took what she wanted and then jumped ship, and Ashe refused to be seen in any way less than eye to eye.

“So it stays on.” She shrugged casually, in all the confidence she didn’t exactly feel, calling a hint of ice to her hands to make her point. Katarina’s jaw actually went slack. She could see her debating to just go through with ripping it anyway, yet ultimately decided not to challenge her luck and waited. And Ashe… found she _really_ appreciated the compliance.

Unhurried, the archer reached forward and rolled the assassin’s black blouse over her toned stomach, past her chest and over her shoulders. Katarina’s hair ended up on one side of her neck, something about the visual so terribly attractive Ashe couldn’t help but lean forward and press her cool lips to her jaw. The redhead made to grab her hips, her hands once again redirected by the queen to her waist. A low growl of frustration left her throat.

Ashe was too busy running the tips of her fingers down the contours of her abs to care, a hot and urgent need spiking in the pit of her own abdomen. Cool digits trailed all the way down to the button of her black jeans, soon guiding them off and pushing Katarina backwards, towards the water. The assassin looked like it took all her willpower to comply.

Ashe motioned for her to go in first and made her watch as she took off her own pants. Katarina couldn’t take it anymore. She shot forward and grabbed her hand as soon as she was done, pulling her into the hot jacuzzi only to pin her against the edge none-too-gently. Scorching lips attacked a pale neck, while eager hands slipped over smooth thighs. Ashe’s knees nearly gave at the first press of tongue and teeth. It was getting harder and harder to remember her inner vow of being on equal ground, when her body was shamelessly yearning for more, no matter their circumstances.

She tried to push at Katarina’s shoulders, but the woman bit her neck in return. A primal part of her ignited, Ashe didn’t really think when she sank her nails into her neck and sent the faintest pulse of frost trough her.

Avarosa’s power.

The assassin nearly kneeled over into the water, a flash of anger lighting in her gaze. “What the f–” but Ashe straddled her gently, holding her close and looking into her eyes, certain that her own were glowing. For once, though, she was unafraid of her own capabilities. She felt in control.

“Slow down. Nobody is taking me away from you.” she reassured.

Katarina finally seemed to get it. Defined arms held her with newfound respect, kissing over the earlier bitemark in way of an apology. Moving up to her jaw, then to her lips, asking rather than demanding entrance with her tongue.

She always had the capacity to be gentler. She was just never shown _how_.

And the fact the assassin tried for _her_ …

Ashe felt her heart swell. She didn’t have a name for the feeling, that or didn’t want to name it in that moment, but it was a warmth previously lacking from her life, something powerful, all-encompassing, that made her feel complete.

“Tell me what you like.” Katarina said in a sexy little smirk as she pulled her underwear to the side.

Ashe couldn’t find her voice long enough to _tell_.

…

Ashe opened her eyes groggily, blinking the sleepiness away. It felt like she had been asleep for ages, although one glance at the clock proved it was merely a couple of hours, with quite a bit of time left for dawn to break. For once, she was entirely content in bed, a wonderfully warm weight beside her.

Turning onto her side, Ashe couldn’t help the smile that tugged the corners of her mouth at the sight of Katarina. The woman was scowling, arms crossed, even in her sleep. Releasing a fond huff, the archer reached up to carefully run her fingers down the redhead’s cheek. She lingered on the scar over her eye, tracing the raised skin until the assassin’s tension eased away.

_How beautiful can you be._

The queen stayed like that for a long while, enjoying what she never had the chance to experience before.

An indefinite amount of time later, she carefully rose, making her way outside in silent steps. The mansion was big enough for someone to get lost in, but she had started to pinpoint signs to manoeuvre her way around. She had gotten used to the silence, even Noxus’ near constant humidity. _Even_ the people in the house, which was no small feat.

Katarina had talked to her about Freya and her importance in her life. About the maid’s unwavering loyalty. One glance at her eyes and it was plain to see she would gladly take a bullet for every Du Couteau currently residing in the estate. Ashe had exchanged brief words with the woman, who always regarded her with a kind, welcoming smile, treating her as the assassin’s relationship, not Freljord’s queen.

Then there was Talon. Secretive and mysterious as one could get, yet he had started to talk to Ashe more and more when their paths crossed in corridors and common rooms. His initial distrust was melting away by the day, which the archer was more than glad to see.

Which left Cassiopeia–

 _Gotten used to_ almost _every person in the house._ Ashe corrected in her mind.

Because Cassiopeia was… intense. Difficult. Out of everyone, she was the one gazing at Ashe with every intention of turning her to stone if she so much as breathed the wrong way, a way that could, even in a parallel universe, compromise their family. It didn’t help that the woman spent all her time in solitude. Or that, in the days Ashe stayed under the same roof as her, she had perhaps seen the younger heiress twice total and never once spoken to her. Until—

“Ashe. An early bird, I see.” Cassiopeia’s voice broke the archer out of her realm of thoughts, bringing her hard-crashing into the present. She hadn’t realized her stroll had taken her all the way to the back gardens. Those, Katarina had told her, were Cassiopeia’s domain. Still, it was five in the morning. She never would have expected the woman to be lurking there, in the dark.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep.” she replied calmly. “How about you?”

“They say restlessness is the product of a troubled mind.” Cassiopeia began, staring ahead, past the roses and into the distance. “Let us say mine is _very_ troubled.” Ashe wordlessly approached, standing at a relatively safe distance. “The way I see it, there are five people in this house. I cannot see all five making it out of this ordeal unscathed.”

Ashe’s lips tightened into a thin line. “That’s–”

“A realistic view.” she cut her off. “The rest is just wishful thinking. And so is the hope of you and my sister together.”

 _Ouch._ When Cassiopeia wasn’t trying to be diplomatic about it, her words sliced right through, worse than Katarina’s blades. The real assassin of the family.

“Even if Zeke doesn’t know about you yet, or simply lacks the proof to get us publicly executed about it, one way or another it _will_ come down to a choice, someday –between your people and my sister. And I do not like our odds then.” It was like Ashe was slapped in the face with her biggest fear, stated so nonchalantly, as a fact. “You and Katarina ruined each other.”

“Ruined?” Ashe repeated, gaze darkening, her temper flaring.

“She is no longer as spiteful as she used to be. No longer wants to kill the whole world for the slightest discretion. In our line of business, that wildness made her powerful. _Feared_. You are no longer the perfect queen you moulded yourself into. Your people are not your only concern.”

“I never planned on being a queen forever. Once I establish the peace that Freljord deserves—”

“It will not last without you and you know it.” Cassiopeia finally faced her. Cold, piercing eyes. “Your intentions alone cannot change a land shaped by war for ages. They recognize only one thing; power. They will only be compliant to your power.”

“Power I have because of who they _think_ I am.”

“Power you _have_.” Cassiopeia stated.

“It’s not mine.” Ashe set her jaw so tightly it hurt.

“Whose is it?” the woman shrugged. “I don’t see any queen of old here. Except with that mindset, no wonder you don’t own it.” A pause. “Maybe it brings a bit of a darker color in you you don’t like, but it’s yours. Maybe you’d like to think it’s not because you had to kill a few too many people to tame it, but it’s still yours.”

How?

 _How_.

Ashe’s eyes were wide as full moons as she stared at Cassiopeia, mortified.

“Every awakening is violent. Trust me, I would know.”

The woman slithered away after that, leaving the archer alone with countless questions, doubts and thoughts swirling around and around in her mind.

…

Ashe spent many hours alone, locked in herself and wondering how to proceed from that point onward. She didn’t want to admit it, but Cassiopeia had shaken her. Badly.

It wasn’t so much what she said about Katarina and her, as it was about her kingdom. It would all be so wonderful if Freljord hadn’t already proven the woman right. Ashe could see it herself every day, that peace was there as a collective goal only because she willed it. As soon as she was gone, to live her _life_ , it would be snuffed out like a candlefire in a snowstorm.

And at the tip of the pyramid of her worries, stood Avarosa’s True Ice. The same unrelenting force that changed her physically, that she had always feared could change her mentally if left unchecked. _Is this really a part of me? No ghost of old to possess me, simply… my own darkness?_

 _Did I_ want _to kill all those people?_

Images flashed before her mind’s eye. An entire Tribe, frozen with a mere command. Their ruthless warriors who deserved it at the front… and their women and children in the background, all buried under the same ice. By her hand. Was that Avarosa’s rage, or her own that caused it?

Were those one and the same?

_Where does that leave me?_

Ashe suddenly felt colder and more alone than she had in a long time.

Before she had the chance to dwell on it any further, shouts came from the front door of the house. _It sounded like… Katarina’s voice?_

The archer rushed to the stairs only to freeze at the sight; Katarina on her knees, holding Freya’s collapsed form in her arms, a steady flow of blood leaking from her neck where it was grasped between her fingers and the assassin’s own.

From the side, Cassiopeia opened the door to the kitchen so powerfully it cracked at its hinges. The woman sprung next to Freya in the blink of an eye, a med-kit in her hand and a grave look on her face.

“Don’t move her!” she ordered, already preparing the sewing needle. “Ashe come here, help me clean the blood –Katarina hold her _steady_.”

The archer descended the stairs so fast she may as well have flashed, taking the cloth with the disinfectant from Cassiopeia and cleaning the wound according to her guidance. _Gods, there is a lot of blood._ She could have fainted if she hadn’t seen her fair share of it throughout the early years of her life.

Ashe spared a look at Katarina in all the chaos, witnessing first-hand the heart-wrenching hurt painted across her torn expression. The shock in her tear-shimmering eyes, the _rage_.

Cassiopeia had to blink a few times to make sure her own vision was clear before she started sewing the cut.

“She’s going to be alright, just hold her tight.” Cassiopeia was the most level-headed out of the three of them. “It’s a warning cut, not a cut to kill, you know this well.” she stated for the sake of calming Katarina down.

“I know just –make sure she’s okay.”

“She will be, I know what I’m doing.”

Minutes that felt like eons later, Cassiopeia was done. She placed her arms under the woman’s neck and legs and lifted her effortlessly, guiding her without moving her an inch to the nearest bedroom. Katarina was left staring at the blood on her clothes and hands for a long time. Almost as if she had an epiphany, the shock in her gaze turned to glacial acceptance. She looked like her old self when she rose, the ruthless predator Ashe had come to know in the Fields of Justice.

Her eyes were so… _cruel_.

Together, they wordlessly waited for Cassiopeia to call them inside, when Freya regained her senses. Katarina kneeled by her side, immediately clutching her hand, while Ashe hovered at the door.

“My –Lady…” Freya croaked out.

“Don’t talk more than necessary, Freya.” Cassiopeia placed a clawed hand on her shoulder with gentleness unseen in her before.

“T-Talon…”

Katarina sprung up as though she’d been burned. “What about Talon?!”

“H-he… took him. The… masked man.”

“Zeke will _die_ today.” Katarina promised, every bit the Sinister Blade of Noxus.

“But how will we find him?” Ashe questioned.

Cassiopeia rose, taking a deep breath. “Oh, we will. He finally made a mistake.” A deadly, dark smirk crossed her lips. “Because now that he touched her, I can track his scent.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left for the conclusion of Katarina's and Ashe's love story. Thank you so much for sticking around :) and for the comments helping me improve my writing. The next story will be about Evelynn, out at the same time as the final chap of The Fire in Ice. Would love to hear what you guys think.

**[Katarina]**

Clouds obscured the afternoon sky, casting deep shadows onto the earth. Noxus had never been known for its sunshine.

Cassiopeia hissed another curse under her breath as she picked up the pace. If the damn weather chose that moment to rain, the already thin scent she was tracking would be lost for good, along with their element of surprise –and perhaps Talon’s only hope of making it out of Zeke’s grasp in one piece.

Katarina understood the need for haste better than anyone, but that didn’t mean she could easily match her sister’s inhuman pace. Ashe and she were struggling to even keep her in their field of vision.

“Hey, slow it down!” she yelled when they nearly lost her at a sharp turn into an alley.

Until Cassiopeia came to a sudden halt. Her back was rigid, still as a statue for a moment. She was crouching low the next, palm splaying on the ground near something Katarina could barely make out from their distance. One _shunpo_ later, she was standing next to her, breath coming out in heavy puffs. Dark green eyes dropped down to the puddle of blood Cassiopeia hovered over.

“This is where they were attacked? Where all eyes could see?” Katarina growled, downright _murderous_. Thankfully, there wasn’t a soul in sight at that moment, perhaps the only reason Cassiopeia did not hesitate to step outside the comfort of the shadows. That, or her worry for their brother drowned out even her immense aversion to being seen.

“Yes. Freya often takes this shortcut home from the market when Talon accompanies her.” Cassiopeia said, narrowing her eyes. “They always leave early so it makes sense there weren’t people around here. Though, still, it is a brass move.”

Ashe caught up to them, blue eyes locking with Katarina’s for a split second. The assassin felt the raging fire of bloodlust quell at the sight of her. _What am I dragging you into…?_

“He went that way.” Cassiopeia said, rising to her full height. Her eyes were set far into the distance, where Katarina could see only darkness. “Follow me.”

That was easier said than done.

…

It felt like they had been walking –more like running– for a solid hour. They had practically left Ataraxia at that point. Katarina couldn’t make out mansions and rich estates anymore, only a shit-ton of dirt.

“The fuck are we?” she asked.

“The excavation site.” Cassiopeia stated. “The ruins to the Old City they found when we were kids, remember?”

Of course, Katarina did _not_ remember. Anything related to digging and history had been their mother’s hobby, passed down through genes to her younger daughter. As for the assassin, that stuff had always flown straight over her head.

“No, and I don’t care to. Let’s just go in there and—”

“I don’t like this.” Ashe spoke up. Katarina’s eyes darted to her. “I’ve seen and set up enough killboxes in my past to know what one looks like.”

“You mean…?”

“I was wrong.” Cassiopeia said gravely. “Zeke didn’t make any mistake. He knew the exact range of my senses. Freya was allowed to live and run home for the sole purpose of giving me his scent to track. In short, he expects us. Talon is the bait and this isn’t a surprise attack –it’s a _trap_.”

“And if we want him to keep breathing our only real option is to step right into it.” Katarina spit out, her knuckles white around the handle of her sword.

“Let’s even the playing field first.” Ashe stopped her with a hand on her bicep. Two sets of green eyes watched as the archer extended her arm forward, swirls of magic and frost wrapping around her limb. Ice formed before her open palm, morphing into a familiar shape; her bow. As soon as her hand closed around the weapon, the excess ice shattered, scattering in pieces that dissipated before they hit the earth.

Ashe’s eyes glowed a brighter blue for a split second. She pointed the bow towards the sky, drawing the string to her cheek as a white, wispy arrow sprung to life.

“Seek.” she commanded and her voice –it sounded different. There was a faint echo to it, just like… _just like Lissandra’s,_ Katarina thought. The ghostly arrow turned into a hawk high in the air, scrying the area. 

The assassin caught herself recalling the other two instances Ashe’s eyes had shifted like that. That night in the training room. Their private bath. Both times she’d wanted to prove a point. The redhead wondered, however, what would happen if she used that power when she didn’t. When she didn’t use it in short bursts, when her eyes _stayed_ that way.

“What do you see?” Cassiopeia asked.

“They are _many_.” Ashe replied. “Over twenty –no, more than thirty. I don’t see Talon. But judging by the way they are stationed I am willing to bet their leader is at the heart of the ruins.”

“We split up and meet there. I can see them with my heat vision if I get closer.” Cassiopeia said, already moving forward.

Katarina’s fingers wrapped around her elbow _tight_. “Absolutely not. You’re taking Ashe with you.”

“Don’t let sentimentality cloud your judgement now.” Cassiopeia replied, shrugging out of the grip like pushing aside a feather. “I am virtually indestructible. Blades can’t pierce my skin outside the Fields and poison doesn’t work on me. _You_ on the other hand.” The younger sibling pushed at the assassin’s chest to make a point. What took zero strength from her had Katarina shoved several steps back. “You’re human.” she said with the faintest sorrowful waver to her voice.

One strong push of her tail and she was gone further than the redhead could reach.

Katarina sank her teeth into her lower lip hard.

Ashe locked eyes with her. “She’ll be alright. Now let me be your eyes.”

The redhead took a breath and forced herself to slip into her assassin mindset. Only her mission mattered. Only her targets. She nodded without another word.

…

Crimson and black blended into the shadows behind an ancient wall. The trained killer waited, counting every breath. Every single one of the footsteps steadily approaching. As soon as the guard stepped beside her, a hand was pressed to his mouth and a blade drawn across his neck. It had been some time since Katarina killed anyone who wouldn’t come back by some unearthly magic, but her body went through the motions fluidly all the same.

She didn’t feel anything as she let her victim’s form slide to the ground without so much as a hiss of sound. She wondered if Ashe did.

“Where.” Katarina asked over her shoulder.

“Two rows ahead. Three o’clock.” Ashe whispered, her gaze unfocused as she looked through the eyes of her hawk.

The redhead took a sharp corner. Threw a knife towards her target she knew for a fact he’d deflect –Zeke would not recruit amateurs for his cause. As soon as it bounced off his gauntlet, the assassin _shunpo’ed_ to it, shoving it straight into his throat. Katarina twisted his body over her shoulder so it wouldn’t draw attention as it fell.

But there was another– and Katarina only realized when he leapt out from behind a collapsed pillar, sword gleaming in the air for the kill. She tried to force her body into another _shunpo_ , yet it was too soon after crossing so much distance earlier. Her only hope was to block–

Until an icy arrow pierced through the man’s forearm. The scream died at his throat, Katarina cutting him down at the speed of lightning.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t see him.” Ashe lowered her bow.

“Don’t be. I owe you.” _For everything._

Ashe shook her head and turned her gaze towards the apex of the ruins, the imposing pillars and broken tablets that must have been a grand temple thousands of years ago. A place for worship and sacrifices to appease the gods. And Katarina did not know which gods it was dedicated to, but she knew one thing; after eons, they would have _blood_.

Everything was eerily quiet for the first few seconds of them stepping into the temple.

And then…

Nothing was.

Shadows came down onto them like rain, forcing Katarina and Ashe apart as they fell into a struggle for their lives. It felt that for every one that the assassin cut down, two more rose to take their place. _Shit._ _How many are there?_

They used every dirty trick in the book. Throwing dust into her eyes, switching to attacking with each other’s blades mid-air, trying to trip her. Nothing worked… until Katarina started to wonder if killing her was their goal at all. One glance towards Ashe confirmed her suspicions –they just wanted to drive her as far away from the queen as possible. 

Ashe held her own in close quarters with assassins, but a bow could only do so much from that range. One of their assailants managed to slip behind her… “Look out!” Katarina yelled, her voice hoarse with tension.

Ashe’s reflexes saved her life. She twisted out of the way _just_ in time, though the assassin got a good slash onto her bicep. Blood oozed freely down her arm. Two swords were then aimed straight for her chest—

But the blades of the attackers met skin they could not break, instead. Cassiopeia’s tail drew them together at the front, sharp claws slicing through their necks like hot butter.

A cold, deep laugh penetrated the air, putting a stop to the fighting.

Another man stepped out of the shadows, clad in pure black, dragging a body smothered by rope at his side. _Talon_. Katarina scanned him for any fatal wounds. He looked roughed up but otherwise unharmed, a fact that made her send an array of _thank you_ s to any god that made it possible. The bind secured into his mouth and over the back of his head was so tight it cut the sides of his lips in his struggle, but he continued to fight against his bonds.

“At last, we meet in person. How you’ve grown, both of you.”

_That voice._

Katarina snarled, moving into a _shunpo_ –

Until Zeke’s blade pressed to Talon’s neck, drawing blood. She froze.

“That’s right. You know how it goes, Katarina. You move, he dies.” Then he turned to Ashe. “The Queen of Freljord is the last person I’d expect to see caught up in our vendetta. You made a fatal mistake coming here, Ashe. I did _not_ want to involve you, but you leave me no choice.” Finally, he faced Cassiopeia, the familiarity in his tone contradicting his mask’s faceless, blank visage. “Ah, and little Cassiopeia. I always had a feeling you’d be a terrifying woman someday. Except… not so literally.”

Her jaw worked, but she willed her body still. Cassiopeia stoically turned to look over her shoulder, at the assassins gradually surrounding them. Five behind her and Ashe. Three next to Katarina, who did not dare move after nearly getting incapacitated by her spinning attack earlier. More shadows behind Zeke, overall a small army at his disposal.

“Drop your blades. Kneel.” He said towards Katarina.

“Go to hell you _fucker_!” she snarled.

“If I do, he comes with me.” he cocked his head towards Talon. “Drop them.”

“Katarina don’t.” Cassiopeia’s tone was clipped.

“I won’t say it again.” Zeke pushed the blade further into Talon’s neck. The tendons there stained.

Katarina felt her blood boil and every nerve ending burn. Still, Talon’s life weighted far beyond her pride. In another snarl, she nailed her swords to the ground by her sides. The blades barely had the time to touch the earth before the assassins around her fell atop her form like hungry wolves, locking her arms back and forcing her down. _Don’t panic. Find the weak spots in their grasp._ Her mind relapsed to her father’s teachings.

“You won’t ask me why I did it?” Zeke’s voice came from under the mask.

“Because you’re a fucking traitor that’s why.” she spit out. “My father gave you _everything_.”

“Was that before or after he took everything _from_ me?” Zeke asked, the only sign of his rage the tighter hold on the rope around Talon’s neck. “I want you to know before you all die –I am not the bad guy here.” He said, pressing a gloved hand over his broad chest. “From your perspective, you see the demon who betrayed the very man who fed and trained him, but your perspective is wrong. I spent years of my life so _proud_ of my role as your guardian.” The first hint of genuine emotion in his voice. “Until the truth was laid bare before my eyes. The man I felt I owed my life to was the same one who destroyed it in the first place.”

Katarina’s eyes widened. Narrowed. She wouldn’t put it past her father, but in such a case, he would _never_ make the mistake of letting young Zeke live.

“My family was falsely accused of having sold out the secrets of the Elite. Marcus refused to look further into it before ordering our execution. And when he found out I survived, he had the _audacity_ to play the savior in my life.” Zeke growled out. “I never would have found out, with all records erased. There was _one_ man in the entire world who could have told me the truth –and it was the same man I was sent to kill, in the mission you knew to be my last.” He explained.

Katarina remembered. What it was like to hear the news that Zeke was dead, caught in a fire along with his target. That nothing was left for them to even bury.

“The same piece of garbage who had framed my family. He asked for one _last_ confession before he died, not knowing who I really was.” Zeke continued. The universe really did have a fucked-up sense of humor. “It was simply to buy time, of course. The worm had set up bombs around his own shack that set everything ablaze. In the end, though, he still did not escape from me.”

“You should have died in that fire.” Katarina said coldly. “It would be less painful that what I’ll do to you.”

“I _did_ die in that fire!” Zeke snapped, reaching up and clawing his mask off his face. And the sight…

Was frightening.

Burn marks too deep to ever heal scarred his forehead and the entire left side of his visage, twisting his lip into a perpetual frown. The burns only seemed worse moving down from his neck, until they disappeared into his pitch-black suit. Looking closer, the tubes sticking out of it at his sides weren't just for visual effect. His whole body must have suffered the same fate, charred wholly; a miracle that he could even _breathe_ in such a state, let alone move. 

A demon that refused to perish. 

“The only thing that kept me alive in this ruined body was my thirst for retribution. It still is.”

“Is _that_ what you call it.” Cassiopeia’s gaze darkened, her pupils less than thin lines inside her eyes.

“It was the only way for him to _feel_ it. Either your mother’s death… or yours.” Katarina’s muscles strained against her enemies’ hold. “You were right next room, remember? Playing so innocently with a stuffed toy. I let you live thinking you could grow to be better than him. But you _both_ have disappointed me. Now I see the apple cannot fall far from the tree. And if I want my justice to be complete, I have to burn every trace of that cursed tree.”

Cassiopeia’s tail coiled menacingly. A faint light began to emit from the depths of her eyes.

Zeke’s knife once again dug into Talon’s neck. And yet Talon never once looked into Cassiopeia’s or Katarina’s gaze for help.

“You think I care?” Cassiopeia chuckled. “I’m not like Katarina, you know. I won’t put his life above taking yours. I don’t _care_ if he dies.” she said. And for as long as that knife had been inside Talon’s skin, this was the first time his expression betrayed pain. “He’s not my brother. He never was.”

Deep down, Katarina knew she was lying. But in that moment, even she froze by the conviction in her sister’s words.

“I knew you’d say that.” Zeke huffed, then motioned for one of his assassins to step forward. The man held a tome in his hands Katarina recognized all too well… her mother’s studies on the Emperor’s Tomb. The only record left that could provide a hint to the ancient curse that transformed her sister. “So here’s how this goes. You make a move on me or my men and Kalahad here will break the seal I put on this tome… turning it into _cinders_.”

Cassiopeia’s jaw locked.

“As for you, Ashe… everything here is already being recorded. At the press of one button the whole world will know your secret. Don’t force my hand –you can walk out of here unscathed, with your kingdom in one piece.” he said. “It’s not like they would give anything up for you –you’re _not_ part of them.”

Ashe looked down at the tip of the arrow in her drawn bow. The string was let the slightest bit looser.

Katarina felt her whole world come crashing down around her. Even if she could break out of the assassins’ hold, she still had to choose between her sister and her brother, her love and her revenge. There was _no way_ she could kill Zeke without that tome being destroyed, no way to get the tome without Talon’s life being taken in the blink of an eye or Ashe’s crown ruined. That was _if_ the men behind her and Cassiopeia did not take her life first.

She _couldn’t_ —

_Do anything._

Katarina’s chest shook with the realization.

Green eyes looked desperately between Ashe’s unreadable profile, Cassiopeia’s still frame, Zeke’s burned face and Talon’s head hang in defeat.

And then Cassiopeia broke the stillness, turning ever so slightly towards Ashe, without really facing her. “Sometimes, to gain, you have to give up too much.” she said. “Some things require a _steep_ sacrifice. My family knows this well.”

Katarina’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Ashe, however, turned to meet her sister’s eyes with a new air about her. “Then a sacrifice it will be.”

And everything happened all at _once_.

Cassiopeia turned around with inhuman speed, covering the archer’s back in the process, an ancient curse spilling from her eyes. The blades the assassins behind Ashe barely had time to cast bounced off her skin. Meanwhile, Ashe’s bow was drawn to its full power, a swirl of energy and frost unlike any Katarina had seen before practically bathing the entire area in blue light. Her glowing eyes were so focused and so _cold_ as she spoke–

“ _Freeze_.”

The explosion that occurred made the very earth tremble. Zeke was forced to let go of Talon and leap to the ground as the massive arrow zoomed over him, scattering into a million fragments that fell like glaciers into his assassins and the ground, freezing everything solid in their impact. Katarina used the blast wave to her advantage, throwing her captors off before _shunpo_ ing over them, sending knives straight into the back of their necks.

Before Zeke could rise she was onto him, kicking his arm aside so he couldn’t reach for his blade as the two of them fell into a final dance of knives. Katarina countered every attack with the speed and force of a wraith come to life, led by the singular goal of making her nemesis _kneel_.

_For taking my mother from me…_

Her flurry of attacks finally caught flesh, rending it as though it was paper.

_For all you’ve taken from me—_

Katarina feigned a head-on attack only to _shunpo_ to the side, cutting across the back of Zeke’s knee. The undefeated assassin collapsed like a tower whose foundation had been shattered. The redhead blocked the upcoming attack and slid to his other side, cutting the tendons holding his only good leg up.

She stood with her blades on either side of his neck, breaking skin, her chest heaving and seething with bloodlust. _“One day, you’ll be standing in my shadow.”_ The words of her young self flashed to mind. A promise she had made under different circumstances… a victory she had imagined would not taste so bitter and hollow.

Ashe untied Talon and slung his arm over her shoulders for support.

Cassiopeia’s fingers closed around Katarina’s tense bicep. The assassin reluctantly lowered her blades.

The setting sun was beginning to peak through the endless dark clouds.

The youngest Du Couteau reached into her belt and retrieved a small vial, presenting it to Zeke’s narrowed eyes. “Do you know what this is?” she asked. “I’ve searched high and low to find the poison you forced down my mother’s throat.”

Katarina grabbed his hair and forced his burnt jaw open until the last drop had been poured into his mouth. Zeke coughed and spat, to no avail. “A quick… and painless death.” he half-croaked, half-chuckled.

“But I thought, that end doesn’t suit you. So I added my own.” she continued.

Zeke’s eyes began to widen. His expression quickly morphed into one of pure horror, as his body fell to the ground, convulsing in violent spasms. His mouth opened but no sound came at first, until the silent screams turned into deafening ones.

“Trust me, I know how it _feels_.” Cassiopeia said, gazing down at every second of his suffering...

...on and on...

Until his final breath.

Katarina couldn’t believe it was finally over. She wanted to shout and she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Until Cassiopeia turned to face her, the most vulnerable her light green eyes had ever been since her transformation. Slowly, they leaned closer to each other.

Katarina wrapped an arm around her waist, while Cassiopeia’s head dropped on her shoulder, fingers and claws carefully wrapping around her sister's wrist.

“It’s over.” the assassin breathed out.

Ashe and Talon wordlessly joined their side. Limping, the man came to stand before them, opening his mouth to say something –but the words never made it out. Katarina and Cassiopeia pulled him simultaneously into an embrace. His shoulders shook.

Ashe smiled at the sight of them, for a moment. Then she turned, casting her gaze about the destruction she had caused. Ancient walls and pillars had been torn down, spikes and shards of frost were protruding from every direction, bodies encased in ice. With one motion of her hand, the frost began to melt, leaving no traces behind other than the dead assassins laying on the ground.

Katarina approached her, taking hold of her hand. Sad blue eyes faced green. “Thank you.” She leaned her forehead against her temple, feeling her archer relax into the touch.

Talon picked up the tome on the Emperor’s Tomb, but the pages had been reduced to ash. Cassiopeia avoided gazing at it at all costs, as though trying to lie to herself about what she had just lost. 

Instead, she came to face Katarina and Ashe. “Give me your phone, quick.” she told her sister. The assassin obliged, watching as the younger sibling typed a number at lightning speed. The other line rang for two seconds. “Yes, this is Cassiopeia Du Couteau. I want you to trace this phone’s coordinates and block every transmission out of my area. Make sure no signal gets to Freljord under no circumstances for the rest of the day.” One could never be too safe.

Ashe smiled when Katarina’s phone was given back to her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Cassiopeia offered her hand for the queen to take. “I won’t forget what you did for us today. You are always welcome in our mansion.”

“We’ll send our people to cover the mess here later. For now, it’s time to go home.” Katarina said.

On the way back, the clouds had cleared enough to allow the final rays of the setting sun to color their skin.

The assassin turned her gaze to the sky.

_Mother… I hope you rest easier now._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this wonderful journey. This story has been one of the longest fics I ever wrote and certainly the longest I ever posted. There were certain things I wish I could go back and write a little differently/expand on more etc but that is the nature of writers, i guess, usually never pleased with anything they write :p. But that is also what makes them improve with every fic, so it's not a bad thing. 
> 
> Like I said before, this will be part of a series of fanfics with different protagonists all set in the same 'universe' in League, albeit later or earlier in the timeline. If it interests you, check out my Evelynn x OC (Avarice) story, "Between Dusk and Dawn", that takes place before this one. (So Ashe and Kat are not together, but they will be making cameos!).

**[Ashe]**

Cool, even steps led the way to the carpeted room housing the Avasoran thrones. From the massive windows, a landscape of peerless snow peeked, warm in its familiarity.

Ashe allowed her blue gaze to drift from it to the inside, to a certain king rising to greet her in equal parts fond surprise and worry. “You’re back!” Tryndamere smiled, immediately wrapping her up in a big bear hug. The archer returned it as gracefully as she could without letting her injuries show. It was good to be back home.

“That I am.” Ashe smiled back. “Is everything in one piece?”

“Our people are doing well. It’s always the local lords that cause trouble.” Tryndamere huffed deeply, like they had already been giving him more than enough of that to deal with. “And those from my Tribe especially.” He added semi-reluctantly. “Needless to say they’re not used to a wife being long without her husband. Not that they can say much in my presence. But they do spread whispers more than warriors should care to.”

Warriors with too much free time on their hands who still had trouble adjusting to Ashe’s orders at times. Their customs were very different, of course, which she understood. Their loyalty to Tryndamere was without question regardless. But maybe, she thought, it was time to teach them a lesson. On where they were allowed to speak... and where they should hold their tongue.

“Summon them here.” Ashe said. “Both your chiefs and mine. We haven’t held a formal meeting in some time. Perhaps there are certain things they have forgotten.”

Tryndamere gave her a look. There was a reason the local lords from each side did not often meet around the same table –that was a recipe for disaster. Ashe’s gaze, however, did not waver. He silently relented.

An hour later, six very displeased-looking men and women gathered at the same chamber, surrounding a large map of Freljord’s lands. Ashe and Tryndamere stood at the helm, a steadfast symbol of unity between the two Tribes.

“Why have we been called here, Tryndamere? I’d rather not stay in this room longer than is necessary.” His first commander spoke in an unpleasant tone.

Tryndamere leveled him with a deadly glare before he took a breath to retort. Ashe beat him to it. “It is not your place to question why. You will be summoned whenever the crown orders it.” The man looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first time.

“Anyone got any objections?” Tryndamere asked in a voice that dared anybody foolish enough to say yes. When no sound came, he nodded. “Good. Then let us begin.”

“It has come to my attention that during my absence the six of you have stirred up feuds and fed several troublesome rumours within your territories. You, the very leaders we have appointed to guide our people to prosperity and peace. …Was I informed wrong?” Ashe spoke evenly, keeping her fingers lightly touching the war table.

At first, nobody said a word.

And then…

“It was the Barbarians who started it and slanted your name–”

“A wife who has been missing for days without a sign is unaccept—”

A deafening bang promptly shut everyone up once more. Tryndamere stood in all his bulk with a palm slammed onto the wood so hard it cracked under his skin. “Silence yourselves.” He hissed.

“Barbarians are Avarosans and they will only be referred as such.” Ashe calmly blinked towards her ‘side’ of the table. “As for me… do you know why this marriage happened in the first place?” Ashe’s eyes began to give off a faint glow. Her fingers pressed a tad harder into the wood. Within a fraction of a second, the temperature dropped to subzero levels, an unearthly chill settling across the limbs of every chief. It coiled like smoke around their lungs, clawing and _burning_ the way only frost could. Quickened breaths were betrayed by the smoke they casted.

“W-What is this…” Tryndamere’s first commander asked, shaken, eyes wide from the danger he could _feel_ but couldn’t _see_. Ice that rendered them frozen without being present.

“It happened so this power and Tryndamere’s sword didn’t tear you to pieces. It happened so that your blood could stay in your bodies. So that you can still draw breath while we tolerate your impulses.” Ashe looked at them in the eyes. “In case you still don’t get it –this marriage is the only reason you still live.”

They didn’t look at her. They _feared_ to look at her. For a second, Ashe felt just like her mother.

For the first time in her life, she knew that not to be a bad thing.

 _Talk like your mother. Act like your father._ She told herself. _Don’t run from what you are._

“And should you continue to disrespect it, on both sides… I can make sure you never utter another word.” Blue eyes glowed in all the raw intensity of twin moons in the night sky.

Heads bowed, one after the other. The chiefs’ teeth were chattering too much to speak, but Ashe knew she had gotten she answer she wanted.

And just like that, the frost was gone.

As though a dream broken by dawn, the ice dissipated to a comfortable warmth. Gradually, the people in the room were allowed to move again. It was perhaps faintly amusing how they hesitated to take a full breath even then. 

“I think we are all in agreement.” Ashe leaned back, giving a faint smile. “You are dismissed.”

The fake couple exchanged a funny look as the usually stoic warriors practically stumbled over each other in their rush out the threshold. A comfortable silence settled in the room.

“Ahem.” Tryndamere cleared his throat. “A warning… would have been nice.” he said casually.

Ashe smirked up at him. “Your poker face has gotten truly impressive.”

“Didn’t know I would have to keep it up while freezing my _soul_ off.” He shook his head. Then, edges of his smile faltered. “That… was True Ice, wasn’t it?”

“A fraction of what it can do, yes.” she admitted.

“I thought you hated using Avarosa’s power.”

 _I did hate it._ Until the most unlikely person in the world, in all their cutting edges, opened her eyes to the truth. Power could change and corrupt people only to the level that they allowed it to.

“Not Avarosa’s.” Ashe replied calmly. “My own.”

Tryndamere stared at her for a moment. “Being with her has changed you.” he said, his voice neutral. A simple observation.

“In a good or bad way?” the queen asked out of mere curiosity, not denying any part of his statement.

“I can’t tell.”

And if she were honest, Ashe couldn’t either. She could not claim she was going to be a better queen than she used to, or even a better person. She didn’t know if being with Katarina was for the general better or worse, but she didn’t really care to. Because no matter what, she knew one thing for certain; she was finally home within her own body, and looking forward to the next day in a way she had never dared dream of, before.

Ashe caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window as she made her way down the corridor; the whiteness of her hair and the crown atop her head no longer feeling like someone else’s image.

She had accepted her role.

She had accepted her power.

…

Weeks later, things had settled down completely. The Du Couteaus had returned to the League sporting their usual intimidating visage, and Cassiopeia had pulled the strings necessary so that nobody dared speak about the incident that almost ruined them irreparably.

Ashe saw Katarina mainly in the Fields of Justice, bathing her allies in colorful words for stealing her kills, as usual, and flipping the enemy team off upon defeat. If the assassin winked at her in the darkness of the forest where cameras couldn’t see and avoided hurting her whenever possible the matches where they stood on opposite sides, nobody could tell.

Publicly, they were what they had always been; neutral parties, acquaintances at best.

In the safety of their rooms, however…

At midnight, Ashe’s phone vibrated with a text she knew was from Katarina. Smiling, the archer picked it up from her nightstand. _“Light of my life–”_ she read the first sentence and immediately did a double take. A massive double take. Her lover would either have to be drunk to oblivion or on the verge of death to ever call her something like _that_. Checking the sender again, Ashe confirmed that it was Katarina’s number.

“What the…”

 _“Light of my life, I cannot wait to see you again, your beautiful smile like dawn’s rise and your eyes sparkling like the finest teals~”_ Ashe’s cheeks heated the further down she read.

 _“…are you alright?”_ she sent back. 

Two seconds later, the Sinister Blade was calling her, something they usually didn’t do out of fear of being overheard.

“Kat…?” Ashe answered cautiously.

 _“Delete that message right now!!”_ Katarina practically yelled from the other line. Ashe could hear Talon’s snicker in the background as easily as she could picture her assassin fuming. An image of what transpired was already starting to form in her mind’s eye.

Ashe bit her lip to contain a chuckle. “What, why? That was the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me.”

 _“I didn’t tell you_ shit _! Talon took my phone and—”_ Katarina paused as though realization suddenly dawned on her. _“How did you know my password, you asshole?”_ she asked, her voice growing distant as she probably lowered her phone to talk to her brother.

 _“Cassiopeia exchanged it for my services. Worth every hour of my work.”_ Talon’s voice was faint, but Ashe picked up on what he said. A burst of laughter threatened to bubble out of her.

 _“Ashe, delete it.”_ Katarina demanded.

“What, am I not the light of your life anymore?” the archer teased.

And upon hearing that, of course the redhead hang up.

Ashe smiled to herself. Counted to fifty. Sure enough, a knock came on her window right after. She took her sweet time in swinging her legs off the bed and opening it, fully expecting the shadow that leapt past her and rolled stylishly across her floor.

 _Show-off._ She mused fondly.

“I thought we agreed not to do this anymore because it’s too dange—” Ashe’s words were cut off by a pair of lips on top of her own. Soft and moist, tasting like cherry lip balm. A familiar warmth enveloped her and pushed her back against the wall, her body yielding immediately to it. She’d hungered for that feel, of passion, of safety, for days.

“I needed this.” Katarina breathed out against her mouth. “But more than that…” she whispered, smirking sexily as deft fingers slid down, over Ashe’s breast, across her stomach and side, the touch burning like a trail of fire. She reached for her wrist, tracing over the veins there disarmingly… –only to steal her phone the next second. “I needed _this_. Ha!” the assassin exclaimed, deleting the message from earlier before handing the device back to her. “Sorry, babe. Sometimes you have to play dirty to get what you want.” she winked. 

Ashe nodded, taking her phone back and making a point of locking the screen. She leaned back, comfortable between the wall and Katarina... and smirked as well. The Noxian’s expression fell.

“I know, _babe_.” the queen replied, mirroring the same arrogant tone. “So that’s why I made a copy.”

“Well, _fuck_.”

…

Easter holidays rolled by and with them, some much-needed rest for Champions and Summoners alike. Scheduled matches were few and far-between. The Institute of War, usually buzzing with noise, had grown quiet in the absence of most of its inhabitants.

There was a time Ashe was expected to be in her kingdom, as well as a time she had to be back in the League. If there happened to be a small grey area of three days in-between those, none was the wiser.

The archer found herself in a very familiar setting, a mansion that had once seemed eerily silent and unhospitable to her now a comforting space where she had her freedom. Freedom to be herself, to be with who she wanted. They had come a long way to get where they currently were…

…and that was seated opposite each other, divided into two teams and playing a very intense game of cards. Katarina was focusing so hard on her hand her forehead crinkled, while cracks were beginning to form on Talon’s cool and collected mask. Ashe kept her expression neutral through sheer force of will as she gazed between her cards and Cassiopeia’s, who could bluff so convincingly it was truly terrifying to behold. The woman could sell plastic as gold if she wanted to, acting like she held all the power in the universe while she actually had quite possibly the _shittiest_ card combination in the history of mankind.

Ashe couldn’t help but admire her intimidating certainty, every cunning word that mentally pushed the others _just_ where she wanted them to be. Even the slow, periodic tapping of her claw against the table was calculated to pressure her opponents –and Ashe was certainly glad to be on her side of the table. Cassiopeia would certainly make a great queen.

Freya, the dealer, gazed calmly between the two teams, not taking a side on this war between the two sisters. But Ashe could see the pity in her eyes as they fell over Katarina –then again who _wouldn’t_ pity someone who had to go against Cassiopeia.

“I fold.” Katarina finally said, throwing her cards down the same time as Talon, both of them huffing.

Cassiopeia glanced at Ashe, who couldn’t contain her chuckle anymore as they revealed their hand. The worst combo ever in existence just netted them a thousand gold in chips, leaving the others with practically nothing.

Talon’s jaw dropped. “Unbelievable.” He shook his head, turning the other way, as if he couldn’t even stomach to see what he lost to.

“Okay, I do _not_ like this new partnership over there!” Katarina waved her finger accusingly between Ashe and her sister. “Break it up.” she practically vaulted over the table, squeezing next to the archer as though to protect her from Cassiopeia’s ‘influence’.

The serpentine woman only budged because she wanted to. “Sore loser.” she sniped. A buzzing sound caught her attention the next moment. She reached for her phone, lying beside her. “I need to take this.”

As the younger Du Couteau slithered outside, Katarina lowered her chin on Ashe’s shoulder and stayed that way during their following conversation with Freya and Talon. The archer tried not to focus on the fact her lover was technically holding her in front of her family, certain that she would blush and stay red for the remainder of the night if she did.

“I’ll be right back.” the redhead said after a while, going in the direction of her sister.

“Let’s give them some time.” Talon said.

“Gods know they need it.” Freya agreed.

…

‘Some time’ turned into ‘quite a bit of time’.

Ashe was beginning to worry –and she wasn’t the only one. Freya kept glancing towards the garden. Talon fidgeted. The moment the middle-aged woman rose to put the cards back in the other room, “Maybe you should go check on them.” he suggested.

“Why me?” she asked. If tensions were rising, their mother figure was probably their best bet. Ashe had seen first-hand how both sisters’ harsh edges smoothed around her.

“Freya will hurt if they’re fighting again. And Katarina calms around you.”

“Cassiopeia doesn’t like me that much.” Ashe countered. They were getting somewhere, but not nearly there yet.

“Cassiopeia doesn’t like anyone. She _trusts_ you and that’s more to her than you could imagine.” Talon stared into her eyes as he spoke. Ashe could see his worry reflected in those dark depths, so many things between him and his sisters still left unsaid. So many thorns of their past, still bleeding them dry.

The queen carefully made her way to the garden.

From the large, floor-to-ceiling windows of the corridor, she could see they didn’t seem to be arguing. It was a relief, to say the least.

“You know what I’m trying to say, don’t make this more difficult for me.” Katarina’s faint words reached her ears.

“I know you’re trying to thank me and I told you I didn’t do it for you.” Cassiopeia replied. “It was simply our best option. _My_ best option.”

“Stop pretending you don’t care about anything.” Katarina said. “You’ve been looking for our mother’s notes forever.”

“And they would not have told me something I don’t already know.” Cassiopeia gave a hollow chuckle. “The curse cannot be reversed. I have _accepted_ that. Now can _you_?”

“Stop.” Katarina grasped her hand. “Just… let me be grateful, for once.” Her eyes dropped down between them.

“Gods, you really have grown soft.” Cassiopeia commented but didn’t pull back. “You know I don’t deal in ‘thank you’s.”

“Alright, then, what do you want?”

“The truth.” she said. “Did father leave because of me?”

Katarina visibly straightened. “He left because of _me_.”

“Did he ask you to kill me?” And how it was possible for anyone to ask that question with a straight face, a casual voice, Ashe didn’t know. The redhead didn’t speak. “He did, didn’t he.” Cassiopeia pressed, her neutral expression breaking for less than a heartbeat.

Katarina’s hold tightened on her wrist. “Don’t disappear again.” she said.

_Pleaded._

Cassiopeia looked away.

Ashe slowly backed off of the scene, leaving the two truly alone once more. She returned to the main living room, where she assured Talon the two of them were just talking. They had a _lot_ of things to talk about. But the whole ordeal with Zeke seemed to give them some common ground to build upon. So, Ashe hoped that surely, _surely_ …

…there was hope for them in the horizon.

…

Well into the night and entirely comfortable in Katarina’s luxurious bed, Ashe curled up on her side, one hand under her lavender-scented pillow. Her body still hummed from their earlier activities, a bone-deep relaxation settling over her form like a veil.

The moonlight coming from the window lit the room just _so_ , creating the perfect balance between soft light and dark. Katarina was on her back next to her, a comforting warmth behind her even without them touching, providing all the safety she needed to drift off into one of the most restful slumbers of her life.

In that moment between sleep and wakefulness, the archer was absently aware of the assassin breathing out deeper.

“Hey. I think I love you.” she confessed quietly.

Ashe’s mind immediately snapped to full attention, as her heart jumped up to her throat in a way hearts weren’t supposed to. Her sleep effectively thrown out the window, she rolled around, staring incredulously at those beautiful deep green eyes of her lover.

“You _think_?”

Katarina smirked. “Kind of.”

Ashe huffed, dropping her head back down on her pillow. _This woman will be the death of me._

“I thought you were asleep.”

“That’s not something you say when the other person is _trying_ to be asleep.” Ashe couldn’t even pretend to be mad about that, instead giddy, like the teenager with a crush she never had the chance to be.

“You can go back to trying now.” Katarina closed her eyes, all relaxed like nothing earth-shattering had happened. The only indication she knew what she’d just done to Ashe was that terribly attractive little smile playing at her lips.

 _As if I can sleep now after hearing that!_ The archer’s cheeks were burning. She inched closer, leaning her chin on Katarina’s smooth shoulder. “You’re insufferable.” she breathed.

A few minutes passed in silence, with Ashe’s hand curled around the redhead’s bicep and tracing over a faint scar there. She let her mind drift to their very first meeting, all the way past Katarina’s snarky remarks and sheer arrogance to the look in her eyes the time Ashe had poured that healing potion over her forearm. The layers beneath the image of pretend that she slowly saw through, the person past the perfect tool. The same person who brought a broken part of her back and merged it with the rest into something _whole_ , who showed her a world where she could be happy if she was brave enough to fight for it.

The person she had come to—

Love.

“I love you too.” Ashe said against her skin, so the words would be painted there, like armor, like a band-aid to cover the hurt she had experienced.

Katarina’s lips tugged into the world’s prettiest smile before she drifted off to the land of dreams. 


End file.
